Venus Rising
by rubygoddess
Summary: After Wrecked, AU from there. Buffy deals with feelings with Spike whilst facing a dark new evil that hits close to home. Throw in a visit from Angel and you've got your typical Sunnydale angst-o-rama. Updated with Chap 23 and 24! COMPLETE!
1. Shadows and Pool

Disclaimer: All Hail Joss and Co., blah blah blah. Obviously I do not own Mutant Enemy or any of the characters, I'm just a lowly follower with a dream

Pairing: B/S, A/C, X/A, W/T

Rating: PG-13. Honestly, just around the kind of stuff you see on the show

Author's Note: I wrote this in December after watching bits and pieces of "Wrecked" so my characterization of Rack isn't completely right, but hey, artistic liscense!

Chapter One: Shadows and Pool

She hated when he was right.

She hated him the majority of the time, but none so much as when he stood in front of her, smirk in place, head cocked, rolling out her fearful truths in his lazy accent.

"You came back wrong."

"Things are different between you and me now Slayer"

"You're gonna crave me the way I crave blood."

And it was all true, especially the last bit. Why else would she be there, watching him play pool from the shadowy darkness of the Bronze?

She, on the other hand, could not seem to stop lying. To herself, to her friends, to him. 

Reassuring the Scoobies that after all that happened, she was fine.

Demanding him to stay away from her and Dawn, even though she knew she would never wish that.

Reminding herself that despite feeling all the coldness in her body thaw just by being near him, she was there not because she wanted to be.

She knew she should have gone up to him right away to give him her usual brusque, rude greeting. That was a lot less dangerous than lingering in the darkness, marveling at the fluidity of his movements as he sexily sauntered about the pool table and squinted as he leaned forward with his pool rod for the kill. She would have given anything to be able to ignore the way his beautiful muscles tensed underneath the layers of black leather and cotton as he lurched forward suddenly, cat-like, to snap the ball in the pocket.

And she almost felt like their roles had been reversed. She imagined this is what it probably felt like for him, guarded by the secure shadows of the large oak outside her window. She imagined in earlier days, he stood feeling the same mixture of disgust and hopeless fascination that sent waves of chills through the chest the way she did. She waited until he finally got the eight ball in the corner pocket before rushing up to his black-clad back.

"Spike."

She saw him stiffen. The sound of her voice always had the same effect on him, sending warmth throughout his cold body. Whether the warmth be rage, amusement, or frenzied need, his undead body temp raised a degree or so at the sound of her voice. He turned slowly, curling his lip up in his characteristic way. 

"Slayer," he growled. "And what can I do for you duchess? Although I'm sure I already know."

"Look Spike I need—" 

"Yeah I know what you need, luv," Spike said, his wicked smile growing larger and larger. "And it took only a week for you to come running to me to get it too. Figured you for a stronger lot, Slayer." He strode up to her seductively, so close that she could feel her own flushed, raging warmth being cooled by his body, just inches away. He raised a hand to caress her cheek, grinning at how her breathing became more ragged and shallow. Just before he touched her, Buffy's hand flew automatically to catch him. 

"Don't start, Spike." Buffy gritted her teeth. 

Chuckling, he backed away. "Oh here we go. Diving right into the verbal clashing which leads to the fists flying, which in turn leads to, as I've happily found out . . ." He gave her a wicked wink. "Other things."

Buffy sighed. "Spike, this really is more of a business call."

"Oh is it? Well how come your devoted groupies aren't here then? They usually accompany you on all your crime-solving capers."

"They're busy. Looking for _Dawn_."

Hearing the emphasis placed on the last little word, some of the hard irony drained from Spike's face.

"That's why I'm here. I thought she might be at the Bronze, and the I saw you and figured I'd ask since, well, Dawn is strangely and twistedly drawn to you."

"Not the only Summers girl to be doing that now is she?" Spike couldn't help muttering. Seeing this was going nowhere, Buffy turned to abruptly leave when Spike grabbed the sleeve of her leather coat and looked her in the eyes as she turned.

"Wait Slayer, I'm comin' with."


	2. A Night with Possibilities

Chapter 2: A Night With Possibilities

"We can take the bike." Spike said, referring to a beaten down motorcycle parked in front of the Bronze.

"Bike?" Buffy wrinkled her nose. "What happened to your old Desoto?" 

"Old girl finally decided she had enough and broke down on me a while ago." Spike quipped. "Filched this from an unsuspecting banker with a mid-life crisis." He straddled the bike and revved the engine. "Well hop on!" he said, referring to the hesitant slayer. 

"What about helmets?" Buffy asked, pulling her jacket around herself tighter.

Spike snorted. "Fine time to play Ms. Sunnydale Safety Princess. Not a very practical thing to be with the slayer night job and all." He sighed. "Didn't have time to nick the helmets. You'll just have do without and hold tight onto to me."

Buffy whirled around to see if he was smirking, but only met his serious eyes, filled with concern over Dawn. She slipped onto the bike and gingerly wound her arms around Spike's waist, trying to ignore how nicely firm and strong it felt. Spike also gulped when he felt Buffy's small hands grasping at his sides and was glad when the thick silence was filled by the rushing wind whipping around them. 

"So where are we headed?" Buffy yelled over the wind and engine, breaking the silence. 

"Thought we might look around town for awhile. Trust the little bugger to pull a stunt like this. She used to do this a lot you know."

Buffy was slightly irritated that Spike seemed to know her sister better than she did. "Used to do what?"

"Go tromping off, leaving us to go on a wild goose chase trying to find her. She did it a lot when you di---- were gone."

Buffy immediately stiffened and felt Spike do the same in her arms. She knew the little correction was just as much for him as it was for her and she was grateful. "Where would she go?" Buffy asked, softer this time.

Spike sighed, hating to remember the time when the woman whose touch was currently making him swoon was buried six feet under. "To the graveyard mostly. Would visit you and your mum's tombstones a lot, just sittin there, bawlin' her eyes out." Spike's voice became strangled, remembering all the times he visited Buffy's gravesite as well. One of the first times Dawn had disappeared, Spike found her there, crying. He sat and silently cried with her for hours until the first glimmers of sunlight and it was only by Dawn's insistence that he ducked into his crypt before combusting completely. 

Buffy felt the salty tears blur her eyes as well. "Poor Dawn," she murmured, letting the tears roll down her cheeks and neck.

"Yeah well," Spike cleared his throat, "Sometimes she'd just wander all over town, muttering and crying, the silly git she is. I thought we would look for her doing that since . . . well she doesn't have much reason to go the graveyard anymore." 

"She could be visiting Mom."

"No, she's so much happier since you've been back Buffy. I can't think why she'd go and do a bloody stupid thing like this. You two not getting along?"

Buffy sighed. "I don't even know. She's still not talking to Willow and I ---- well I don't know how to deal with that."

"Then she's probably just blowin' off some steam," Spike encouraged. "She's probably just taken a walk or something. If we can't find her, we'll head back to my crypt to see if she's there."

Buffy nodded. She always felt comforted by Spike in moments like these. Other times, he could so infuriating that Buffy felt inclined to let Mr. Pointy have a say in the matter, but in times like these, she found it impossible to hate him. He didn't have to say much, or even do much, but his silence gave to her more comfort than Willow's bumbling questions of concern or Xander's snappy witticisms could ever give. 

Spike was aware that Buffy's arms were beginning to curl tighter around his waist and he felt he was about to pop from the desire to just pull over and drag her into a patch of soft grass and attack her with his hungry lips and kisses. It was going to be a long night.


	3. A Long Night Gets Longer

Chapter 3: A Long Night Gets Longer

__

It's been a long night, Buffy thought as she and Spike entered his crypt, three hours later. Between searching the street for Dawn, disposing of a few stray demons and vamps here and there, and withstanding the strained awkwardness between Spike and herself, she was exhausted. "DAWN? DAWN ARE YOU HERE?" she yelled through Spike's dank crypt.

Spike went downstairs to check if Dawn was there and to get a pack of cigarettes. "She's not here." He informed Buffy when he came back up. 

Buffy sighed and collapsed onto a ratty couch. Spike raised an eyebrow, expecting her to be out the door immediately, but was trying to disguise his pleasure that she seemed to be staying. 

"I don't know what to do about her." Buffy said, aware that she should have left moments ago, but was too fatigued to do so.

__

Here we go, Spike thought. _She's gonna expect me to sit here and listen as she whines about all her problems and pretend like nothing happened between us. _Spike lit a cigarette with contempt. He was tired of being Buffy's shoulder to cry on whenever she damned well thought she needed it and then being told he was a monster every time she had a temper tantrum. Secretly, he knew he would rather have Buffy trust him enough to let him into her problems, which she more than deserved to reflect upon and let out than nothing, but now he couldn't hide his bitterness at the knowledge that he was simply a human punching bag for her.

"Nibblet you mean?" he asked, trying to conceal his impatience with indifference.

Buffy hardly heard the change. "I think she's upset with me because I have no time for her all. I try, but I just have way too much to do."

"You?" Spike asked with mock shock as he lazily lit up a cigarette. "A college dropout without a job who somehow maintains a killer wardrobe?"

"You have no idea what the hell you're talking about Spike." Buffy's voice rose in hardened anger although she could tell he was kidding. "My life is so many different levels of busy that a lazy-ass, soap-opera obsessed vamp like you couldn't understand." She frowned and started pacing, verbally outlining all of her duties. "There's Willow, for one thing. Her magic withdrawals have got so bad that she needs someone to just sit with her to get through them. And with Dawn goose stepping every time she gets near Willow's room, I'm the only one who's up for the job."

"Babysitting Red isn't a real job luv." Spike snorted.

Buffy ignored him. "Then there's the Magic Box, which Anya seems to be neglecting with all the wedding plans. I'm working there without pay since Anya is so possessive of the money. And then there's my sulking sister who gets herself reliably in trouble just so that she can brag that her sister, the Slayer will bail her out of it. Oh YEAH, and there's the whole saving-the-world-from-the-Hellmouth bit, which is not exactly an easy feat. I've got the whole twice dead thing to affirm that."

Spike paused when he could see the pure hurt that lied behind Buffy's eyes. He knew how raw she still felt after being brought back and despite all the fronts that she promptly put back up, insisting that she was over it, he knew that she felt as scared as she did then, tearing her way up from beneath the ground. He decided to probe further.

"Yeah well at least you still have so much available time to whine about it don't you luv?"

Buffy stiffened. Frustratedly throwing up her arms, she felt that old familiar flaming anger boil within her. It was a feeling that only Spike could evoke. "You know what Spike? I don't need to justify myself to you."

"Yeah you don't. But I think you need to justify it to yourself."

Buffy cocked her head. "What would you know about it Spike?"

"I know that you weren't telling me all of your laundry list of things to do because you thought I cared. It's cause you you're trying to convince yourself that you do."

Buffy hesitated. "What are you talking about?"

He sighed. "Face it Buff. These things have been on your mind. And you're not too happy about them. You're asking yourself why you even bother doing them when you don't want to."

"I do them because I have to," Buffy gritted. "They're my responsibility. I don't have a choice in the matter. I _haven't _had a choice in the matter ever since I became the slayer."

"You know that, but you don't feel it anymore. You always knew that you had a duty, which was hard. But now that you've had a taste of being free from your responsibilities, from the drudgery of duty, it makes it all the more hard and hurtful to do it." Spike gazed deeply into Buffy's eyes, which were a telltale blurry hazel. God, how he wanted to go up to her and wipe away the tears and envelop her in his strong arms and tell her everything was fine. But he knew she wouldn't let him do that.

Buffy swallowed down the remaining tears as she continued to stare into his blue orbs. The look of concern, passionate, yet tender, she found in them sent shivers throughout her body. She locked her hands behind her back in order to hide the fact that they were shaking. Why the hell could he always be so on the nose about everything? She had gone through life always pushing the persistent, nagging thoughts deep down until they arose to tear apart anything she truly wanted. 

Riley. Angel. She pushed them away because deep down, she knew that her duty as the Slayer came first, even though every fiber in her being had said to try to make it work. But with Spike, nothing needed to be dug up. He already seemed to know her through and through and accepted her role as the Slayer, and had admiration for that role. Not like Riley, who felt only intimidation, or Angel, who felt it was a barrier for their relationship. 

And that's what scared her most. That Spike seemed to love the places and spaces of Buffy where Riley and Angel couldn't--- the darkness, the lightness, the hardness, the softness, the woman, the slayer. That Spike---he could be the one. The one Buffy knew Riley would never be and the one even Angel couldn't be. And the fact that it was Spike---smirking, insulting, disgusting Spike, Spike who had consistently tried to kill her for four years . . . well that scared the hell out of her.

"Buffy?" Spike inched towards her, concerned at her silence. He lightly touched her shoulder, and backed up in frustration when she immediately jumped. "God, Buffy!"

"What do you want from me Spike?" Buffy asked agonizingly, hearing the tone of impatience in his voice. 

"Everything, Slayer." Spike lunged back at her and grabbed her arms before she could jump away again. Yet he just as soon backed away again when he saw the confused, wounded look in her Buffy's eyes. ". . . And nothing."

"Then that's just what you got comin' to you," Buffy said as she hurriedly began to gather her coat and walk towards the door. She hoped, though, that he would stop her before that happened. 

"Buffy, wait." 


	4. Truth and Lies

Chapter 4: Truth and Lies

There it was. She turned, putting on her best ice queen face. Seeing it, Spike took a brief, sharp intake of air. "Never mind," he muttered.

Buffy shifted uncomfortably and disappointedly. She turned around again to make her exit but Spike just as soon tried to find something to get her to stay.

"I'm not your girlfriend, Buffy."

"What?" She whirled around quickly. She laughed harshly. "I never thought you were. I prefer my girlfriends much less testosterone-inclined."

"I mean it. I'm not your friend," he snarled, stalking up to her. "I'm not one of your lovable Scoobies you set up pity party with." It hurt him to say that, knowing that he would take all he could get, just as long as she was near him. But he had to do what he could to retain some of the dignity he had left. "I told you I'm not gonna be your whipping boy anymore, and I meant it."

Buffy clenched her jaw tightly. "Don't flatter yourself Spike," she said, her voicing rising in volume. "You don't need to worry about me visiting you anymore, as long as you stay the hell away from me!" _God, that was so tired_, she thought.

"Fine!" He yelled.

"FINE!" She yelled back.

Suddenly there was a tangle of arms and lips. Crushing her body hard against his, Buffy hungrily tore at his lips, grasping at his shoulders, then curling her arms around his neck and her legs around his. Spike was in turn grasping her arms, pushing her closer and closer, losing himself in the scent of her hair and the taste of her tongue. "Buffy . . ." he panted, as he broke away to kiss her neck that she arched back for that sole purpose. His hands crept down from Buffy's neck to graze ever so softly on her breasts. She sighed and moaned slightly at his touch, but her sounds were smothered by his mouth on hers. Her hands crept down his sides to tear his shirt from his jeans in a crazed, deliriously passionate manner. Suddenly she flew back to her panic-filled senses and gave him a push that sent him flying.

"Bloody hell!" Spike yelled as he crashed into a pillar.

" We can't do this . . . again," Buffy said firmly, trying to convince herself more than him.

"And why the hell not?" Spike sniggered as he lankly walked up to her, snaking an arm around her waist and drawing her close. She pushed away again and struggled to gather her things.

"Buffy . . ."

"NO SPIKE. Please, please, can we not talk about this right now?" Buffy's voice audibly wavered.

"When then Buffy?" Spike asked irately. "When were we going to talk about the fact that we slept together?" Buffy twitched at the words. "When it happens again? You come crawling into my bed when you get pissed off at the bitlet at home or when Red slips up with the magic again? Then leave me in the morning as abruptly as you came with only a slap in the face and a kick in the bum? I told you I'm not playing that game anymore Buffy."

"What do you want from want from me Spike?" Buffy asked for the second time, but with more insistence, more meaning. 

"I want you to admit that this—" Spike waved at the air in between him and Buffy. "This… it means something to you, because I know it does. You can be the Archduchess of denial, but you can't deny something as strong as this."

Buffy stared and probed into Spike's dark, endless eyes. God, she could let herself get lost in them forever, if she wanted. "It's wrong."

Spike lost it, running over to leave a dusty hole in the wall of his crypt with his fist, yelling with fury the whole time. "BLOOODDDY HELL, woman, why do you have to be so goddamn' predictable??!!"

"You don't have a soul." Buffy's voice remained at a constant softness.

"Oh are we at the part where you tell me the 65820 reasons why this is wrong?" Spike sighed.

"You're a vampire. A world famous vampire. One from the bloodline of the Master. I'm the slayer. Add it up, you don't get a good result." 

"It's an equation I remember you trying once before."

"That's the exactly the point! It didn't end good----It ended up hellish in fact. Why do you think this---" Buffy imitated Spike's movements, "would end up any different?"

"I'm insulted that you compare me to the likes of Ol' Poofter."

"Well the similarities are striking, you know. Pointy teethed, liquidy diet."

"Still it's like comparing apples and oranges. Like comparing a marvelously, extraordinarily delicious apple to a rotten orange."

Buffy sighed. "Well it's true that you two can't be compared. You two are really individuals. Angel is a good, upright citizen with a _soul_, whereas _you_ are a bottomless pit of evil."

"We all caught up on that again, are we? Me with the no-soul?"

"Well yeah Spike, that is kind of a biggie. And don't tell me that that little metal plate is a makeshift soul because that is so lame."

Spike grinned. "Look ducks, you and I know it. Even without this soddin' chip embedded in my skull, I'm a good man at heart."

"You don't have a heart and no we don't know that," Buffy shot back. 

"Love changed me, Buffy," Spike said, more serious this time. 

"Oh please." Buffy laughed, her laughter cut with sarcasm. "You were in love with Drusilla for over a hundred years and you killed thousands and thousands of people."

"Well considering Dru was the one to turn me, I wouldn't cite that as a healthy relationship."

"And this is??" Buffy gaped with incredulous irony. "Face it Spike, this 'relationship' is as twisted as they come. All that's between us has been death threats and murder attempts sprinkled with verbal and physical sparring and . . . " She sighed as she said it, "A one-night stand."

"A one-night stand." Spike repeated disdainfully. "Is that what it was? Then tell me, do one-night stands provide so much temptation that you got to hang bloody garlic strings from your window? If this is a bloody one-night stand, why is it that you can't seem to keep away from me?"

Buffy laughed again, a harsher, more spiteful laugh. "Me keep away from you? You make me sound like the lovesick puppy here. I'm not the one who as recently as last year had me chained and shocked with a cattle prod."

Spike lowered his head. "You know I was a totally different person then."

"You were? You said you loved me, which is the same as you're claiming now."

"Well yes . . . but I loved you in a different way then. I hated loving you, it was like a bloody disease. I was just getting over being just another neutered baddie, and to suddenly wake up and love you . . . well it was a soddin' disgrace, it was."

"This is self-redeeming why?"

"What I'm sayin is, I was just tryin to get back at you for plaguing me, my heart, my whole undead being. I was ready to stake myself before you shot through my heart like some bloody poison. It made me feel just all the more desperate for wanting something I could never have, especially something that I had hated for so long. But now . . . it's too late Buffy. It's gone too deep. I can't deny my feelings for you anymore or try to force you to love me." Spike chuckled. "And you can't very well blame me for that whole chained up thing. It had been years since I've 'wooed' a girl and my more sociable attempts backfired miserably. And with Dru bein' my only relationship since, I wasn't very prepared to handle the situation gracefully." Turning to face Buffy's stoic face, his head drooped a bit to conceal a smirk. 

"The point is, I love you in a totally different way now. I know not to push, I know that you might never love me, and I accept that. I could be happy just to watch you from afar, Buffy. It might seem desperate, but like I told you once before, just loving you makes me feel like a man." Then he turned and looked at her and she could see there was no sense of pleading in his declaration of love, only pure devotion. For that one moment she wanted to forget, wanted to let herself go and free herself from the self made walls she had created to keep him out. She could almost see reflected in his eyes her own, full of want, need and confusion. 

Spike recognized the look and then a gleam of hope erupted through his non-existent heart. Then, suddenly he just looked very tired.

"But you won't let me do that Slayer. You keep leaving these traces of hope that I can feed upon, then taking them away. You keep playing with my head, letting believe that there's a chance for us. And then the next day, you go back, full bitch mode and leave me out in the cold." Spike neared her once more, so close that he could feel her shaking. "Buffy, I want you to look me in the eyes and tell me, just once and finally. Tell me that you feel nothing for me, that you can't spare me a crumb . . . and I'll leave you alone. I'll still help you with Dawn and all the rest of the soddin' Scoobies, but I'll never speak to you about my feelings again. I'll accept."

Buffy felt for the thousandth time that evening tears well up in her eyes. _A slayer's supposed to stronger than this_, she thought. _But then again why?_ Why? And How? How could she shut him out again, with him standing in front of her pouring everything he felt out? How could she when he was being so goddamn earnest and looking like such a lost, helpless, gorgeous child? She had seen him sullen and broken after Dru had left, but she had never seen him as vulnerable as this. And she wanted him so badly. Not only her body, but her heart as well. She wanted him to touch her him both places so deeply and forget all about her death, her mom, her sister, her friends. She wanted to feel.

"I---I want something normal." Trust her to avoid the question entirely and struggle to keep her defenses up. She thought Spike might explode, but his head dropped and he rubbed his eyes with pure exhaustion. He expected her to do something like this, to not let herself be so truthful yet, so he played along.

"Define normal," he sighed

She sank back into the couch. "The 2.5 kids, the picket fence, the husband with the briefcase, me in the apron with the apple pie."

"You think you'll be able to balance that pie while you're busy staking all those vamps?" Spike said in his most sardonic voice as he collapsed beside her. "You can never wish for normalcy, pet, not when you're a world-renowned slayer. Besides, you had normal. Captain Cardboard for anyone else would be a one-in-a million boyfriend. A smart kid with super-human strength—for awhile, at least--- and a sweet job working undercover for the government. Anyone else would think he was bloody cartoon. But to you, he was normal. He could never match up to you because he had no comprehension of being a slayer meant. The finest line between life and death, the rush you get from not only walking, but running back and forth on that line. He could never understand your darkness, Slayer, and I don't think even Poof was willing to understand that. But I am." 

He moved to crouch in front of Buffy. He tenderly, without any intention to make it seductive, cupped her cheek in his hand. "And that's not to say that I imagine you completely dark. I know how you can a bloody, beautiful goody-two shoes. But I accept that dark side to you because I accept you as the slayer. You can't separate that from your personality. It's who you are." Buffy leaned into his hand, relishing at how soft it felt. She shuddered into it, not only because she knew that deep down, there was truth to his words, but also because of the unnerving blueness of his eyes and the soft fullness of his lips. 

This is what she feared the most. The moment when all was silent, when all the verbal tete-a-tete was exhausted and all that was left was the two of them, gazing deep into each eyes and so close, yet at the same times, still too far, to accept the truth between them. Even scarier, Buffy didn't care anymore. She simply wanted to give in to the tension and forget who she was. Forget that she was the slayer and that he . . . well, that he was Spike, and only acknowledge this buzz of electricity between them. She paused to gaze into his eyes once more, then slowly leaned forward and grasped the neck of his shirt to drag him into a kiss. Her tongue probed his mouth, tasting the soft bitterness of nicotine and smoke. She groaned his name softly and she could feel him smile under her lips. She arched towards him, letting him explore the sweetest parts of her mouth. She ran her hands through his hair, softer than she thought it would be, and dragged him towards her, kicking his duster off feverishly. He carefully lowered himself towards Buffy and took her in his arms. She limply wrapped herself around him, burying her head into the crook of his neck and legs around his waist, moaning softly. With her like that, it was quite simple to pick her up amid a fury of kisses and lips and lower her onto the bed.


	5. The Morning After

Chapter 5: The Morning After

Buffy winked the rays of sun off her eyelashes as she awoke the next morning. Gasping, she suddenly sat up. "Dawn!"

"Mmmgh, is 'alright luv, the crypt offers good shelter from the dawn," a tousled, naked, groggy vampire drawled out as he turned to look at the alarmed Slayer sitting next to him in bed. 

"No Evil Dead, Dawn. As in my sister Dawn. I can't believe we forgot all about her!"

"Well we were a bit tied up luv," Spike said, smiling wickedly. Buffy shot him a glance to signify that this wasn't the time. She got up and began picking up her strewn clothes. "Where's my other boot?" she poked the now fully conscious Spike who draped the bed sheets around his body as a kind of makeshift toga. 

"Uhhhh . . . here," he said striding over to the far side of the crypt. "Guess I was in a hurry to get this one off, wasn't I?" Buffy smiled lightly, surprising Spike with her even-temperdness. He feared that it wouldn't take long for her to slip back into bitchy, ice queen Buffy. He wanted this new, pleasant Buffy, the Buffy that was smiling for the first time in weeks, to stay. "Here now, do you have to go rushing off right away?" He said, curling his arms around her neck and lazily placing his damp lips to the nape of her neck.

"Well it's Dawn. I have to go home to see if she's there. I don't know what I'm going to do if she's not." Buffy smiled in his arms and brushed her bruised, pulsing lips against his cold mouth before breaking apart from him.

Spike could see Buffy was genuinely concerned for Dawn and wasn't just trying to find an excuse to duck out. He pulled on a shirt and his jeans and reached for a blanket.

"Well wait for me, I want to see if Nibblet's alright."

Buffy thought she would be annoyed at the fact that she had spent all of last night and much of this morning with Spike, but she didn't. In fact, she was concerned when saw him writhing slightly under the blanket.

"Are you sure you're okay?" She asked, as they made their way up Revello Drive. 

"Yeah, just getting my daily dose of Vitamin D that I never knew I needed," Spike hissed, trying to duck under any shady tree he could find. Buffy giggled slightly and Spike grinned under his blanket to hear that. He rushed up to her and took her hand and was pleased to find that she accepted it. He knew that it was being exposed to sunlight and that it would be a nasty burn, but he didn't care. He gripped it tightly and Buffy found it so sweet, if not a little strange that she and her former mortal enemy were into handholding.

"DAWN??!!!" Buffy called through the house as she opened the front door. "DAWN???!!!" 

"Geez Buffy, ever heard of inside voices? Loud enough to wake the undead. Speaking of which . . . Hi Spike!" Dawn greeted Spike brightly, who by this time had let go of Buffy's hand and impishly let the zealous teenager pounce him into a hug

"Where have you been?" Buffy asked in her best stern mother hen voice.

"Ummm . . . here. Which is more than I can say for you," Dawn said putting her hands on her hips and giving her sister the best evil eye she could muster. "Well whatever, come in the kitchen first, I made pancakes."

"I found her!" Xander affirmed loudly, his mouth muffled with pancake as Dawn and Buffy walked into the kitchen. Anya was evidently feeding Xander breakfast (like literally, spoon-feeding) while Tara sat back and watched the activities of the dysfunctional couple.

"Hi Buffy," Tara said shyly.

"Hi Tara," Buffy answered before focusing back onto Xander.

"No you didn't," Dawn disgustedly replied to Xander. "I walked through the door this morning and you just grabbed me and yelled 'I found you'." 

"Well somebody had to, Missy. Who knows what kind of trouble you could have gotten into from the door to the kitchen?" Dawn rolled her eyes. "Speaking of trouble," Xander said, turning his attention to Buffy, "Where the Sam Hill have you been?"

Buffy shifted where she stood uncomfortably. "Out looking for Dawn, she murmured. 

"I slept over at Lisa's," Dawn said, turning to Buffy. "I left a note. It must have got lost."

"No here it is," Anya said brightly, holding up a crumpled piece of paper. "I just thought it was a grocery list." She squinted. "Spam jelly . . . open-faced . . . lettuce." She looked up at Dawn. "You really have terrible handwriting."

"All that aside," Xander interrupted, trying to squeeze information out of Buffy. "What were you doing searching for Dawn for 6 hours? There aren't that many places for a young, brooding adolescent to sulk in ol' Sunnydale."

"Well . . . I saw a lot of demons and vamps last night and lots of slayage ensued."

"You were patrolling until 7 this morning?" Anya chirped. "Didn't the pesky sun pretty much get the job done for you?"

Buffy's mind raced for an excuse. She practically felt the heat of the blinding, interrogation light that was making her cringe with perspiration. "Look you guys, I appreciate it, but you aren't my parents. After all the carnage, I felt a little thirsty and went to . . . Willy's for a couple beers."

Xander wrinkled his nose. "Willy's? You were in that dive?"

Buffy rushed to expand her lie. "Yeah . . . um it was the only bar open and . . . I just felt like I needed time alone . . . you know?"

Xander's face fell. He understood. She needed time to brood over what they had done. After all these weeks, she still wasn't over it. And instead of reaching out to them, she was distancing herself, making Xander feel like he knew Buffy less then ever. Buffy saw the hurt in his eyes and felt a tinge of guilt over what her lie implied, but she figured that to tell them she was at Willy's would be a lot less controversial as telling them were she really was. Just then Spike came into the kitchen.

"Do I smell pancakes?"

"Yup, only the fluffiest, tastiest pancakes you'll find in this part of the country," Dawn sang as she rushed to set up a short stack for Spike, drowning it in syrup.

Xander groaned. "What's the undead patron of the Billy Idol Fan Club doing here?" he whined as Spike devoured his pancakes.

"He helped with the patrolling . . . then . . . we went to Willy's and sat around for awhile." She didn't dare look into Spike eyes, but she could hear him abruptly turn to look at her. "How's Willow?" she asked quickly, rushing to change the subject. 

"Can we all say 'who cares'?" Dawn muttered, adjusting the sling on her shoulder slightly. Buffy gave her a reprimanding look. 

"Upstairs resting," Xander said in between mouthfuls of pancake and glaring at Spike. "Me and Ahn checked up on her and she seems better."

"Looks terrible though. Like the homeless bag lady down on Sycamore Street." Anya cut in. Tara stiffened uncomfortably. 

"Um . . Ahn, I know it's too late to ask you to get your foot out of your mouth, but maybe you should concentrate on getting some pancake into mine." Xander opened his mouth expectantly.

"Look at the nancy-boy and his dowdy chamber maid," Spike mused. "She might as well be chewing your food for you as well, you stupid git."

"That's it," Xander sputtered as he stood up. "Get out before I suck up your remains with my trusty Dirt Devil."

"Oh I'm shakin' Harris. 'Fraid you'll hit me, but you'll probably get Demon-girl to do it for you, won't you?"

"She can hit pretty hard," Xander gritted his teeth, trying to churn out a proper comeback.

"I really can," Anya supplied. "And as an ex-vengeance demon, I know exactly where it will hurt the most for men."

Tara and Dawn giggled at the wackiness while Buffy tried to suppress a smile.

"I suggest you try some of those tactics on your boy. You'll be doin' a service to all of mankind to get rid of the whelp. Help you as well to get an identity apart from your bloody boyfriend, you spineless bint."

"Hey, nobody talks to my fiancée like that!" Xander rushed towards Spike, poised to finish him off with a butter knife. Spike grinned fiendishly, ready for a fight. Buffy rushed to jump in between them, placing a hand on Spike's chest to motion him to back off. 

"Enough Xander." _This is exactly why I could never tell them about Spike,_ she thought. _Although how fun would it be to see the verbal showdown between him and Xander_? She giggled at the prospect.

Tara up to this point was relatively silent, just watching the fun and picking at her pancakes. She was already absorbed with thoughts of Willow, who she wanted to see today badly, but couldn't bring herself to do. The moment Buffy touched Spike, Tara's eye's glazed with startled recognition. She had seen something and jumped astonishedly. She made a brief sound and felt a yelp get stuck in her throat. "Eek!"

All eyes turned to her. Xander, still holding the butter knife high above his head, asked, "Are you okay Tara?"

Even Spike himself showed concern ---kind of. "Here now, what's wrong with Red's girl toy?"

"What's the matter Tara?" Buffy asked seriously, walking up to her and grasping her arms.

"I'm---I'm----I uh. . ."

"You're not going to start with whole stammering thing again are you?" Anya rudely asked. "Because we could barely understand a word you were saying." 

"I----I, um, I have to go----" Tara gasped. "Thanks for the pancakes Dawnie." She timidly looked into Buffy's worried eyes. "Yeah, I---uh----yeah." With that she rushed out the back door.


	6. Witchy Reflections

Chapter 6: Witchy Reflections

Some days later, Buffy made her way to the Magic Box, yawning and stretching before she entered. She was exhausted. She hadn't gotten that much sleep lately. In between spending most of the night at Spike's crypt then rushing home in the early hours of morning, Buffy had little time for sleep. _Oh well_, she thought. _Don't need much sleep. One of the virtues of being a slayer_. She walked into the Magic Shop with an unusual dopey face and noticed only Tara there, her head buried in a book.

"Hey Tara," she said lightly. "Whatcha doin?"

"Oh hey Buffy." Tara looked up in her usual bashful manner. "I'm just researching what might have caused the diamond theft a couple weeks ago. It has the indication of demonic involvement, with the freezing and stuff, but it could just as soon be a freeze gun or something technological like that."

"A diamond theft on the Hellmouth is like petty theft in Alcatraz," Buffy sighed, still stretching and maintaining the same blissful smile caused by all the bad wrong lusty thoughts she was thinking . . . over who else? She could still taste the tobacco on her tongue from his mouth "We should take a break and wait for more dire things." She paused. "Where's Anya?"

"Oh she and Xander are in the back 'doing inventory'." Tara laughed softly while making little quote movements with her hands. "Although it sounds like they're getting a little too excited over the Orbs of Hebrakhash."

Buffy grimaced, upset that that particular visual picture got in the way of all her lusty thoughts. "Gotcha." She sat next to Tara. "So what's up with you?"

"Oh nothing." Tara never knew how to answer questions like that. "How's Willow?" she asked softly. 

Buffy shrugged. "She's better. Dawn is finally talking to her a bit, but I think a little bribery from me helped. All in all, the sullen-faced sibling, the slayer and the gay, Jewish witch make the all-American family."

Tara smiled. "I'm glad. And I'm glad that you seem so much better lately."

Buffy smiled in turn. "Yeah," she agreed. "I am. With things at home calmed down and with the minimum of demonic activity, things are going pretty good."

Things had been going good. She felt less and less angry and broken over her death and resurrection everyday. Spike had been a large part of that. She had been filled to the brim with him, and all these feelings that poured out of her previously lifeless body. Now that she mostly accepted him, at least for the moment, as something that was normal in her life, it had been so unexpectedly sweet, so cute between them. She could let her inhibitions fall away with him, and there was only animalistic need and desire. But along with that, she let herself be affectionate too. He could so easily turn from a raging, seductive lover to a childish puppy, one that lapped up kisses and played with her hair and skin in the afterglow and she loved that side of him. She would never admit that, of course, but she showed him through her actions, in the way a soft smile would play across her lips as she twirled her fingers through his tousled hair or in the soft manner she would sometimes kiss his him while they made love. It was getting harder to leave in the morning and pretend that nothing happened the whole day until she felt her body tense then relax at sunset.

"And with Spike taking more care of Dawn, I have more time to work and relax. I'm looking for a job."

Tara visibly stiffened when she heard Spike's name. "Oh really? That's . . . um . . . great. I, uh, I got to go in the back to look up a book."

"Wait, Tara." Buffy grabbed Tara's arm as she stood up, hearing the change in her voice. "What's wrong?"

"What? Nothing Buffy, nothing's wrong." She didn't sound very convincing.

"Yes there is. You changed . . . suddenly, when I mentioned Spike. Do you have a problem with him Tara?"

"No—no Buffy it's not that---"

"Then what is it?" Buffy started to get annoyed. "I've been getting this really weird vibe from you lately and I want to know what's going on."

Tara sighed. She hated how awkward this was making her feel. She was already used to being sort of an oddfellow in the group, but she didn't need them suspecting her of anything.

"Okay . . . I'll tell you. The thing is Buffy . . . I've been getting a weird vibe from _you_."

Buffy frowned. "From me? What makes you think that?"

Tara stood up and started pacing. "You know how I told you about how I can see people's life energy --- their aura?"

"Yeah . . ." Buffy said hesitantly. "That's how you could tell about me and Faith, switching bodies."

"Right. Well since you got back I haven't been able to see yours---which is completely understandable," Tara rushed to say, seeing Buffy' widened eyes. "With what happened to you and stuff. An experience like that leaves a person needing time to recuperate. Anyway, lately, I have been able to see it again."

"Which is good . . ." Buffy reasoned.

"Y-yeah. I-its' chock full of the good. It's just that, well when you and S-Spike are together, your aura. . . it's i-incredibly intense."

Buffy stiffened with fear at the realization of what she meant. "What are you trying to say Tara?"

Tara breathed deeply. "Well when you touched Spike the other day, I could see this sudden rush of energy flow through the both of you. Energy flow like that passes between people who are really. . .connected." She smiled. "I used to be able to see that kind energy between me and Willow. She couldn't though, she hadn't fine-tuned her energy-perception skills as well." Her face fell when discussing Willow. "What I'm trying to say is . . . Buffy, are you and S-S-Spike . . . ?"

"No!" Buffy sputtered as she tried to calm her breathing. "There is n-no 'me and Spike'. There is 'me' singular and 'Spike' singular, but not 'me and Spike'. NO conjunction!"

Tara cocked her head puzzledly. "Are you sure Buffy, because I've rarely seen such an intense energy flow between two people."

"Of course I'm sure! I think I would know about my own love life wouldn't I?" Buffy looked down at Tara's patient eyes. Not the alarmed eyes she imagined Willow having or the bulging, horrified eyes she knew Xander would have. Tara's eyes were compassionate. Non-judgmental. And Buffy had wanted to tell somebody. It had been taking over her heart so fully that she wanted to share.

"We slept together." Buffy looked down at her pink heels. She looked up again at Tara. Uh-oh. Not good eyes anymore. Bad eyes. Horror-stricken, shocked eyes. Dammit. She knew she shouldn't have told.

"Buffy! How did this happen?"

"Ummm, I think the proper question would be 'How many times did this happen?'." More gasps.

"Buffy . . . I-I don't know what to say."

"Just promise me you won't tell the others," Buffy rushed towards Tara, eyes pleading.

"Of course I wouldn't," Tara shook her head emphatically. "But—why? Why don't you want them to know?"

Buffy sighed. "God . . . I don't know, I guess I keep thinking that they'll be ashamed of me. I mean . . . its _Spike_."

Tara went over to encourage the Slayer. "You're afraid that we would judge you? We're your friends, how could we? And it's not like we can all boast of conventional relationships too, y'know. I mean, look at me and Willow. Two lesbian witches, not something you see everyday. And Xander. I mean, he's engaged to an ex-demon. Who's still kind of loopy anyway. And from what I heard from Willow, Xander was never one for normal relationships. Mummy girl? Faith? Cordelia?"

"Yeah, Buffy reflected. "But the difference there is that they all had souls. Spike . . . he's a souless vampire. Me world-saving Slayer. You can kind of see the taboo?"

Just then, no one noticed Spike slipping in, by way of the back entrance. He was trying to find Buffy and give her back her, ehhhm, brasserie she had rushedly left that morning. Face it, Spike wanted to find any excuse to see Buffy, it was becoming too hard to sit around all day, in impatient expectation of the night. Hearing Tara and Buffy talk about apparently him . . . oh how fun was chick gossip, he amusedly ducked into the hall and stood to listen. While listening he reflected on the past few days.

It had been heaven. Never in his existence, both alive and undead, was he so happy. The death of the first slayer was probably the second happiest moment, but being a romantic at heart, how could Spike compare love and death? He had been obsessed with Buffy for years and pined for her all last year. It had given him nothing but pain, because he expected nothing but rejection. But now . . . to have her in his arms every night, seeing the same gleam of desire and lust in her eyes that he felt, he could nearly feel his lifeless heart beat with joy. It had been totally different with Drusilla. Bitch made him suffer as well, but whenever he touched her, he felt a chill run up his spine and his love was always mixed with pity and paternalism. With Buffy, it was completely different. He could never feel cold in her presence, not with the heat of her body consuming him. And he never had to worry about taking care of her. She was strong and fierce, and it was more than apparent in their lovemaking.

"I mean, it's . . . _Spike. _ Spike, the one who has tried to kill my friends and me for years. How could the rest of the Scoobies accept him?" Spike turned his attention out of his thoughts and back to Buffy and Tara's conversation. 

"Well, does it matter? Does what we matter what we think? I mean, if you actually care about Spike, it doesn't matter about us. Do you Buffy? Care about him I mean?"

Spike stiffened. He heard Buffy sigh. Talking to Tara like this made Buffy realize that she was back in the real world now, not the discreet sanctuary of Spike's crypt, where time stood still, and she had a chance to forget all the rest of the others. Talking to Tara made Buffy think about her relationship with Spike in real time, and suddenly all the old fears and defenses were brought back up. To say it aloud made the whole thing with Spike seem all the more ridiculous. And all the more dangerous.

"No." She said, hesitantly, but firmly. 

Spike felt like someone had plunged a stake into his chest. "I mean . . . I don't know." Buffy gazed guiltily into her hands. "That would be so not kosher wouldn't it?" 

Tara shrugged. "Who can tell you what's kosher when it's your heart your dealing with?"

"But it's _Spike_." _Bloody bitch keeps saying that_, Spike thought tensely. He rushed closer to the door to hear better. "It's too weird and---twisted. Angel was weird enough and looked how that turned out. But Spike . . . a souless vampire."

"Look, I didn't know Angel, but I heard about him. And I only heard the brief details. I do know some of the things he did to you, and Buffy . . ." Tara sighed. "You can't let that affect your relationships with others."

_BLOODY RIGHT,_ Spike thought. _I half like the Wicca, smart bint she is_. 

"That's not what this is about." Buffy looked her dangerously in the eyes, but Tara pushed further.

"Isn't it? You and I have no doubt that Spike is a good guy. He stayed those months you were gone and helped all of us out. He took such good care of Dawnie and was nice to all of us---even Xander." A soft smile played across Tara's face. "I mean, I really always had a soft spot for Spike. Him helping me with my family and all. So this isn't a debate about Spike's virtues."

Buffy was surprised at Tara's sudden articulateness and stubborn clarity. "Who are you and what have you done with Tara?"

Tara grinned. "The fact is that getting into another relationship with a vampire scares you."

"Well I know that. Vampiric relationships don't come around too often. Out of all the romance columns in Cosmo's you rarely see one saying 'Love Bites: The True Stories of a Girl and her Undead Boy Toy'."

"But that's not why you're afraid of pursuing a relationship with Spike."

""What pursuing? Who said anything about pursuing? There will be no pursuance." _Shut your bloody gob and listen to Blondie! _Spike wanted to scream as he clenched his fists.

"You're not afraid of the strangeness of a vampire love interest," Tara continued. "You're afraid that that vampire love interest would be exactly the same as your previous vampire love interest. You're afraid he'll turn into Angel."

"Why would I be afraid of that? Angel _had_ a soul. Angel was _good_."

"No. It's not that. You're afraid that Spike will get tired of you and leave you, just like Angel."

Buffy paused. She shook her head. "You're way off base, Tara."

"Am I? Face it Buffy, Angel has been stopping you from having relationships with others, not only Spike. Riley for instance."

Buffy shook her head again, stronger this time. "That's was completely different."

"You shut him out Buffy. You shut him out because the only other person you truly loved shut you out. And you didn't want to get hurt like that again. And now, Spike. You're doing the same exact thing." Tara walked right up to Buffy. "I know he truly loves you. We all do. Did you know that after everything was done, he was the only one of us besides Giles to regret bringing you back?"

"What?" Buffy cocked in her head in confusion. _Yeah right, he was probably all for it. That way he could go back to stalking me, just like before_.

"He knew the chances that something like . . . like what happened to you could be. And he would have rather keep you dead then let you go through that much."

Almost simultaneously, Spike and Buffy's eyes filled with tears.

"Really?" Buffy whispered, forgetting to put up her defenses. 

"Really. He loves you so much, Buffy. And that scares you also. You're afraid of the fact that Spike could love you in a way that Angel never could. That he can love you, even without a soul."

Buffy breathed deeply. Since when did Tara become all intuitive? Although she was pleasantly surprised by this new, confident Tara, at this moment she wanted back the old stammering one. Spike, on the other hand, decided right after this, he was going to pilfer the largest gift he could find and leave it on Tara's doorstep later. 

"I don't know," Buffy sighed. "Even though . . . all that could be true," she tensed every time she had to admit to something she had been pushing deep down, "It's still so many level of wrongness that I can't count." 

Spike could feel everything stop when she said that. All he could feel was rage boil within. _GAHH, couldn't the soddin' bitch ever make up her mind? Every time we take a step forward, she takes two bloody steps back! _He backed up against the door of the stock room and rammed his fist against it. Buffy and Tara thought it was just Anya and Xander, making with their strange mating habits.

"HEY SPIKE!" Xander exclaimed as he heard the bustle and rushed outside to see who caused it. "What are the sorry likes of you doing here?" Buffy stiffened when she heard that. _Oh God no,_ she thought. _Please tell me he wasn't listening to all that_. Spike sheepishly entered the room with Xander grasping onto his duster collar. "Look at what the Xan-man just dragged in." Xander said proudly. Spike turned to look in Buffy's eyes and she could tell that he had been there to hear all of it. The flash of anger mixed with hurt made Buffy feel a pit settle at the bottom of her stomach. "And look he's brought something. Is it . . . hey! Someone's unmentionables!"

"I'll ask you to lay off my property, Harris," Spike growled, never taking his eyes off of Buffy's. 

"Since when did you don frilly-laced pink underwires, Spike?'

"Hey those are Buffy's!" Anya exclaimed, rearranging her skirt and shirt, all slightly askew. 

"What huh?" Buffy broke off the piercing glance she held with Spike. "Oh yeah," she said half-heartedly. "Those are mine."

"Can we all say 'pervert'?" Xander said although he turned his attention back to the bra. "Wait---ho, those are yours?" His eyes glazed over with excitement until Anya swiftly elbowed him in the ribs. "Although your underwear is so much more seductive sweetie," he reassured her. "But um, GROSS. What are you doing with Buffy's underwear? You're not starting the whole obsession thing again are you, because that was all kinds of freaky." He looked quizzically at the calm Buffy. "Well come on, Buffy, tell him!"

"What huh? Oh." Buffy tried to put on her best angry face although it was a bit strained. "Bad, bad Spike. How many times do I have to tell you to stop stealing my stuff? It's . . . bad." She tried to look Spike in the eyes, but couldn't stand to see the raw hurt still lingering there.

"THAT'S IT?" Xander asked incredulously. "He steals your lingerie for his dirty, sex-offenderish purposes and you don't even rough him up a bit? I think it's time for me to open a can of specially-formulated vampire whoop ass."

"Piss off, Harris," Spike said, throwing the bra on the table. "I'll show myself out. He grabbed his old blanket and headed for the door. Buffy could feel herself start to shake. Tara looked over at her, concerned. 

"And don't come back, you understand?" Xander couldn't help adding, grabbing Spike's arm roughly.

"Unless we can help fulfil your occult needs!" Anya called from the register, not wanting to risk another customer.

"Yeah," Spike said, not bothering to hide the sadness that drained into his voice as he looked over at Buffy again. "I understand completely." He rushed off. Buffy stood, shocked and saddened and Xander and Anya couldn't understand when Tara went up to place her hands on Buffy's shoulder for comfort


	7. A Night Out

Chapter 7: A Night Out

It had been six days. Buffy fidgeted impatiently just thinking about it. She hadn't gone to Spike's crypt for six days and she even hadn't found him in the graveyard on her nightly patrols. She lingered around, even after all the slaying was over to see if he would show up, and trudged home disappointedly when he didn't. She knew it was all her fault, and although she knew if she saw him, she would have nothing to say, she still hoped that she might be able to catch a glimpse of him somehow.

It had been the longest six nights ever too. Tonight she sat at the Bronze, coolly sipping a beer that she didn't want, listening to Anya and Xander drone on and on about the wedding plans.

"No, but see, Ahn, I don't think I much into the whole feasting on young demon's blood. It's just a dietary preference."

"But Xander, it's what my demon ancestors did, why can't you accept that? I'm going have to deal with your ex-con Uncle Sid and your horny Grandpa who won't keep his hands to himself. Why can't you do this for me?"

"Yes, Anh, but the oogily-boogily of it all, I mean . . ." Xander paused to look over at a sullen Buffy. "Hey Buffster, turn that frown upside down. Why don't you put on your dancin' shoes? The band's pretty rockin tonight."

"Nah, I'm not much in the mood," Buffy grumbled, furtively looking round her shoulder for someone. 

"Come on, Buff, you've been all into the glum for days now. Just when you were doing better too. Whaddya say I take you out for a spin on the dance floor?" Xander was interrupted by a sudden jerky kick under the table. "That is, I _would_, but I'm having way too much fun with my fiancée, discussing the wonderful world of ritual bloodletting." Anya smiled smugly. "But still, Buffy, look around," Xander started. "All these guys in Bronze have been staring at you ever since you got here, and I'm sure you didn't get all dolled up just to ignore them."

Buffy looked down at her getup. A skin-tight, cleavage baring, Faithesque camisole coupled with a barely-there leather micromini along with knee high stiletto boots. She had tried to dress up that evening to forget all about Spike and lose herself in the arms of another guy. Oh who was she kidding, she was dressing this ridiculously in the faint hope that she would see Spike at the Bronze. After that, she had no idea what she would do. Maybe pull an old reliable, attack a guy in his presence, the way she did with clueless Xander that one time with Angel. How fun would that be? _Fun if only he was were_, Buffy grumpily voiced to herself, feeling an annoying ache within her chest. 

Without him there, the night looked like it was turning into a black, abysmal chasm of boredom. 

"Really, Xan, don't worry your pretty little head about me, I'm cool." Buffy struggled to smile and turned around to act like she was entirely interested in the band onstage. 

"Uh-oh, interested male, 9 o'clock," Xander grinned excitedly as a guy approached the table where they were sitting.

"Um, hey Buffy?"

Buffy turned to face a tall, muscular guy, attractive in a football superstar, jockish, Abercrombie & Fitch modelly sort of way. He reminded her of Riley. He looked clumsy and bulky compared to Spike's more slender, lithe, seductive physique. 

"Buffy Summers?" He repeated.

"Yeah, that's me," she asked hesitantly. "What can I do for you . . . .?"

"Billy," the guy supplied. "Billy MacCaffee, from your old sociology class? I sat behind you?"

"Oh hey, Billy." Buffy hardly remembered him. She could hardly remember college life at all in fact. It seemed so mundane, so strangely normal that it didn't compare to where she had been and what she had seen in the last year. She wondered if anyone at UC Sunnydale had heard about her dying.

"Um, I was just wondering if you, um, if you wanted to dance." Billy shifted uncomfortably and looked down hopefully at Buffy.

"Oh," she frowned, "Ummm, that's okay, but I----"

"She would love to," Xander cut in. "She loves the dancin, she does. Can't ever get her off the dance floor. She's like Michael Flately, Lord of the Dance, except hotter, heterosexual, and minus the annoying billowy shirt." Billy glanced over at him and made it clear he thought Xander was strange.

"No, really," Buffy said, cutting Xander a fierce look, "I'm good. I, um, sprained my ankle. It's these damn boots, you know. " She gave Billy a weak smile. "But thanks for asking anyway."

Billy's face fell. "Well, um." He stood there awkwardly and mouthed a couple silent words like he had been practicing this moment. "I-I was wondering if maybe I could get your number, and um, give you a call sometime."

"She would be happy to give it to you," Xander rushed in again. "She loves calls. Loves to get 'em. Loves to give 'em. Oh you would have to saw off the telephone from her hand, she's all into the talking."

Buffy sighed. Billy was confused now, whether to speak to Buffy directly or through Xander, her apparently new, self-declared pimp. "Ummm, that's not exactly true. I, uh, I like calls and everything, but," she tried to say it as gently as she could, using her hands as a way to make it implicitly clear, "I'm at this period in my life where I like calls, but I don't really _need_ calls. I hope you understand," she added, seeing the disappointment in Billy's face. _God Buffy, could that have been anymore lame?_

Xander glanced over at her, shocked and tried to put the pieces back together as Billy started to walk away dejectedly. "Whoa, Billy, man, she's totally drunk, she doesn't know what she's talkin' about. She loves the calls. She needs the calls." Sighing he turned to Buffy. "Buff, what gives? We had you this close to scoring some of the hunk a' hunk o' burning love and you shut him down!"

"Xander, I really appreciate your rather pitiful attempts at matchmaking, but I really don't need them, " Buffy informed him. She got up from the table. "This night has been a total bust," she sighed. "I think I'll just go home and check on Dawn and Willow."

Speak of the devil. "Buffy!" Dawn screamed as she made her way through the Bronze, towards her sister. 

Buffy walked up to her, alarmed. "What's the matter Dawn? What's happened?"

"It's Willow. There's something the matter with her. You have to come home quick."

Buffy looked over her shoulder towards Anya and Xander. "Let's go."

"She just started yelling for awhile and then would stop. She kept wheezing, like she was in incredible pain . . . like she was trying to fight something inside her, like she was possessed," Dawn said tearfully as they walked home, supported by a worried Buffy. "Then she stopped yelling and started talking in a man's voice."

"Sounds like she is possessed," Buffy said grimly. "Where's Tara?" 

"Well she was watching me, but now I think she's trying to calm down Willow down. We used the holy water and cross and everything, but it had no effect."

Xander's face was twisted with worry. "Sounds like one powerful demon."

"Actually, that doesn't sound like a demon at all," Anya said, never failing to sound bright in moments of crisis.

"What are you talking about Ahn, what about that whole 'Exorcist' thing?"

Anya shrugged her shoulders in annoyance. "Oh that was just all hype. I mean it was true, but it totally gave demons a bad rap. Anyway, this doesn't even sound like the Exorcist. Let me ask you Dawn, were there any other supernatural things going on? Flying bookcases, jumping furniture?"

Dawn paused. "No. I don't think so."

"Hmmm. And she didn't respond to the holy water and cross?"

"No. We read her some of the stuff from the Bible even, but she just sat there, and said it was a lovely story." Dawn frowned. "Which is weird, since she's Jewish . . . but that wasn't the only weird thing. She started acting all scary, like, not violent, just . . . brooding and threatening. And she kept walking around and looking at everything like she had never seen it before. All in the really creepy guy voice."

"See, that doesn't sound like a regular, I'm-itchin-for some-possession demon," Anya pointed out. "Demons who possess are usually very antsy, and they like to just go into a body to wreck havoc. They don't settle and walk around, browsing the merchandise."

Xander shook his head in confusion. "What are you saying Ahn?"

"Well . . . remember when you got possessed Buffy? That was all about the desire of the demon to use the body to kill. I don't know, demons don't just possess a body for a visit. And demons usually respond to holy water and the like. Not even the strongest demons ignore that stuff. I myself break out into hives if anyone even brings that stuff near me."

"Well . . . Tara made her drink it . . . and she said that it was refreshing," Dawn said, her nose wrinkling in worry again.

"See?" Anya said proudly. "Not a demon."

"So what do we do?" Buffy asked. "We know how to handle a demon, but how do we handle this big, bad body-snatcher we haven't even identified? I mean, it's taking over Willow. We can't just sit back and let that happen." Everyone nodded in agreement, even Dawn, who felt guilty tears roll down her cheeks.

Buffy fretfully ran up the stairs as soon as they made into the house. Bursting into Willow's room, she found her looming over Tara threateningly, who cowered in a corner, not knowing what to do.

"You know you want a taste," Willow hissed in a foreign, low, gravelly voice. "I can tell you only use magic for the good. Haven't you wondered what it tastes like to experiment with the most primal, darkest, sweetest form of magic? It feels so good. So powerful. I've proved that to your simpering, smiley-faced girlfriend."

"Willow, baby, please," Tara pleaded, wincing as Willow touched her cheek. "You . . .you d-don't want w-whatever's in you to o-overpower you."

"Get away from her," Buffy ordered, pushing Willow off. "Whoever's in there, get the hell away from my friend."

Willow chuckled a deep, dangerous, male whisper. "And who might you be? Oh, the roommate. You think you have you what it takes to save your friend from my grasp? It's too late. She let me explore her mind, her body, her magick and that's all I need."

Buffy came to the sudden realization. "Rack."

"I can see you are as intelligent as you are hostile. Very perspicacious. Not like the girlfriend and the silly sister. They thought the water and crosses, and all the other meaningless vestiges could keep me out, but I'm here because _Willow_ wants me to be. She invited me in. She used me. How could she expect that I wouldn't do the same?"

Buffy placed in her hands on her hips and gave the characteristic Slayer stare. "I really hope this isn't an extended visit here Rack. It's been nice getting to know you and all, but I would really appreciate getting my friend Willow back. Which would include, let's see, you getting the _hell out of her body_." Buffy whipped onto Willow, dragging her along, trying to physically shake Rack out, but Willow promptly struck back, whipping a stinging blow across her cheek. Buffy guarded herself against another oncoming blow and landed a stunning punch that forced Willow to arch her head back. As Buffy struggled to get to her again, Willow ducked, kicking Buffy's feet out from under her and grinning devilishly as she fell on her back. Picking her up, Willow hurled Buffy towards the wall, but Buffy promptly picked herself back up and rushed back to give Willow a powerful roundhouse kick. Willow responded by picking up a large end table from the side of the room and hurling at Buffy. Buffy ducked and rushed to shatter her knuckles against the side of Willow's face. _I can't believe Rack can make her this strong,_ Buffy reflected, struggling to keep an upper hand. 

"This is so weird," Xander watched with morbid interest while Dawn, Tara and Anya cowered in the corner. "I mean I spent high school dreaming about them fighting like this. But you don't expect them to be so good! Of course I did imagine more feathers and pillows and less clothing. But look at Willow! Damn, that's got to hurt."

"Xander honey, I think now is not the time to describe your horny adolescent fantasies. Even I have enough sense to see that," Anya said as she poked him.

Both Willow and Buffy struggled, the blows and kicks becoming fiercer and stronger. Finally Willow stepped back and said in Rack's voice, "Why is there so much strength pulsing from you, you small girl? You don't smell like a witch. Where does your power come from? You are good match, but this is just boring me. I'll take my leave . . . for now." With that, Willow collapsed to the floor. Tara rushed to her side and cradled Willow's head in her arms as she came to. "Willow, honey?"

"Tara?" Willow groggily got up. "What happened? I blacked out. God, I feel horrible." She touched her bloody, split lip.

Buffy crouched and gazed at Willow with a look of seriousness. "Willow, listen. I have to ask you something very important. Have you been doing magic again?"

Willow turned red from anger. "What, no! How could you ask me that? I've been stuck in my room for weeks now and you ask me that?!"

Buffy relaxed. "It's just that . . . Willow, moments ago you were . . . Rack."

"And you were kickin ass!" Xander added excitedly. "Buffy's ass! That's a hard ass to kick."

"What? What's going on?" Willow looked around at the faces, lined with worry. "I was Rack?"

"Rack kind of . . . manifested himself into you. Like, he took over your body. I think he could because you let him use your magic. He said he would be back."

Willow sat back with fear and pondered this. "Oh my God. I can't believe this. I'm so sorry. I've ruined everything."

Buffy patted her soothingly. "No you didn't. This isn't your fault."

"Yes it is! I'm the one addicted to magic, I went to him, I let him use me and I hurt Dawn . . . oh God Dawnie." Willow tearfully turned to Dawn. "I am so sorry, I must have scared you so bad. AGAIN. I can't believe this."

Dawn shrugged. "It's okay. I . . . I'm really sorry about being jerk. I know now that it wasn't your fault." Buffy went over to give Dawn a thank-you kiss on the forehead.

"So what do we do know?" Xander asked. "He said he would be back. How can we tell when that can happen?"

"We can't," Tara said softly. She was visibly shaking, smoothing Willow's forehead. "Rack could come at anytime. And we have no idea how dangerous he could be . . . or how he could use Willow's body again." She gathered a whimpering Willow into her lap. She looked down at her. "It's alright baby," she comforted. Willow relaxed a bit in her arms.

"I say we go find Rack and finish him off before it happens again," Buffy stated firmly. 

"Agreed." Xander frowned. "But we can't find him, us being annoyingly human." He groaned. "We're gonna need the bleached bloodsucker for this one, won't we?"

Buffy straightened. She forgot about that. She was hoping to leave _him_ out of this, but another part of her rejoiced in the fact that she had an excuse to see him. She turned and put on her Commander Buffy face. "I'll get Spike. Xander, Anya, you go to the Magic Box and try to find information about this Rack guy. Tara, Dawn, you stay with Willow."

Everyone nodded and soon everything fell into place, a well-oiled machine of Scoobiness. Buffy briskly strode out the door towards the graveyard


	8. A Dangerous Visit

Chapter 8: A Dangerous Visit

Buffy never bothered to knock when entering Spike's crypt. Usually, his door was open anyway, but she loved the crash and bang she made with her regular entrance. Thrusting open the large, heavy door, her usual habit was to briskly stride up to his bed, where he was always waiting, grinning in a mad spirit of desire, and feverishly peel off her clothes as she quickly straddled him. It warmed her body just to think about it. But today she gingerly opened the door, not wanting him to get the wrong idea. It hardly mattered, though, since she found him asleep in bed. Creeping quietly, she crossed the room and stood, conflicted, beside his bed. He looked so peaceful, Buffy thought. So deceivingly sweet. The way he always looked after they had both been satiated and collapsed into each others' arms. Hesitant at first, she slowly reached out her hand to stroke his hair and neck, his back facing her. His eyes whipped open when he felt her feather light touch and he tensed with expectation. He then felt her hand drop. Sighing, he pretended to roll over in his sleep so that he was now facing her. Opening his eyes gingerly, then looking at her with mock surprise, he jumped slightly. "Oh it's you," he said coldly.

His curt words stung. "Yeah, it's me." She backed away from his bed. Now that he finally had a chance to look at her, his eyes drifted all over her body, scanning her skimpy outfit. He gulped slowly. She could feel his eyes piercing her skin, leaving a trail of goose bumps where he stared. She could feel the growing tension between them that usually was relieved by her jumping into his arms and tried to embarassedly avoid him by taking a feet steps back. She let him get out of bed and put some clothes on, her back turned to him.

"What do you want Slayer? Let me guess, hell hath overtaken Sunnydale again and the Scoobies aren't up for the job, so you come a runnin' to me. At least tell me that the whelp was fatally wounded in action."

"It's Willow," her voice hardened in response to his bitter tone. "Rack has got to her again."

Spike whirled to face her. "She hasn't hurt Nibblet again has she?" he asked angrily. "Because if she has, by God, she's done for."

"Dawn's fine. Willow is the one in trouble. Rack has evidently been able to find a way to take over her body."

"Oh that," Spike said, reaching for a cigarette. "Yeah, that's kind of Rack's bartering price. People get a magic fix from him, he takes over their bodies. Not a very good bargain is it?"

Buffy gaped at him. "You knew about this and you didn't tell me?"

Spike shrugged as he took a deep drag. "Well I kind of forgot about it, luv. I haven't heard about the likes of Rack for awhile. Besides . . ." He paused and gave a penetrating look at Buffy, "I had other stuff on my mind."

Buffy shifted her arms awkwardly. "Oh . . . . .Well he said he would be back and we can't let that happen. We have to find Rack and stop him before he hurts Willow again."

"Yeah, I figured that was the plan." Spike sighed. "Well wait a bit Slayer, lemme get m'things."

Soon the both of them were prowling around a dark, ratty-looking back alley, miles of silence between them. They hadn't spoken ever since leaving the crypt and barely made eye contact. And both of them felt about ready to explode from the tension.

"So . . ." Buffy started softly, in a desperate attempt at conversation, "How have you been Spike?"

Spike let out a sharp, frustrated chuckle. He walked away from her quickly then turned again. "How have I been? What do you care?" His voice brimmed with hostility.

Buffy stood with unease. "I care, Spike," she said, her fists clenched.

"Do you? Cause I recall hearing you spout out exactly how much you _don't _care."

Buffy grimaced at her own words. "I . . ."

"And you don't care because you think I'm twisted." Spike already knew this to be true, but he couldn't help himself from throwing her own words back in her face.

"I didn't say that," Buffy said slowly, shaking her head. "You're twisting my words."

"Oh I'm sorry, luv, I forgot. It's our relationship that's twisted. But that sparkling metaphor's not even necessary right, because we don't have a relationship do we?"

"Right . . ." Buffy said, suddenly very confused.

"So no need for the pleasantries, Slayer. You can save that for your 'relationships'." Spike resumed walking at a brisk pace and taking deep drags from the stubble of tobacco he had left.

Buffy resumed walking, but her anger got the best of her. After a little continued silence, she cut back to the conversation sharply. "You know, I try to be nice to you, knowing how anti-social you are, which is completely understandable, you being the biggest unliving buttmunch known to man."

Spike snorted. "Oh right. Because that's been such a habitual trait between us. Niceness. Bloody soddin' politeness"

"It could be," Buffy pointed out insistently. "It could be if you tried to be less . . . you."

Spike smiled crookedly. "Does it even matter Slayer? Forcing ourselves to be nice to each other? You and I know it's simply business between us, kill the big baddies, protect the world, preserve it for the likes of shiny happy people and their daisy flower beds and their friggin' puppies?"

Buffy winced at his obvious tartness. "I don't even know why I try. Or why I even come to you. You're more a pain in the ass than any crazed warlock."

"Fine then, why don't you try to find the invisible, undetectable, fatally dangerous warlock's coven your bloody self then," Spike snapped, walking away from her.

Buffy sighed exasperatedly. "Real mature Spike. This is about Willow, remember?"

"Not my bloody problem pet. Not my fault the Wiccan's been pushin' the magick like it's chronic."

"What about Dawn?" Buffy challenged him. "Would you want something to happen to her again? Because it could if Rack gets to Willow again."

A look of tired knowledge passed over his face. "Yeah," he said haggardly. 

Buffy felt her heart pierce briefly as she stared at Spike, filled with devoted love for her sister. He would die a thousand deaths for Dawn. And for Buffy herself, as well. Buffy knew this and often pondered on this. For such a soulless, irritating bag of bones, Spike was everlastingly loyal. It had complicated things so much. It would be so much easier if he hadn't made it clear that Buffy could depend on him. She wouldn't be feeling this burning spot of guilt towards him as she did right now. "So . . . let's keep going," she reminded him softly. They resumed walking, falling back into silence.

"Wait." Spike stopped abruptly and stiffened as they passed another alleyway. "I think I feel something."

"What? Rack's coven?"

"Ssshhh." Spike cautiously edged toward an open space in front of maintenance building. He stuck his arm out in front of him and poked the air around him. Buffy watched as the air turned jelly-like and wavered. "This is it," Spike said, motioning towards Buffy. "C'mon." He started slowly towards a door in the wall. "Get in back of me," he hissed.

"And we're hiding from who? The big bad, demonically evil . . . janitor?" Buffy looked at the sign on the door that read "Janitorial Entrance".

"It's just a cover Slayer," Spike whispered menacingly. "So shut your gob and watch your back, cause places like these are plenty sketchy."

"And seriously lacking in interior decorating sensibilities." Buffy wrinkled her nose at the ratty, greasy-stained furniture, scattered debris and inherent filth. "Where'd they get their home fashions? The Mastercraft and Interior Store of Ugly?"

"Never said Rack was a man of style. Just incredibly dangerous. So save your girlish criticisms for another day while I check this place out."

It was apparent that it was Rack's floating coven. Outside, there was a small waiting room where a few scattered addicts curled in fetal positions and writhed in pain. Others sat, shaking and convulsing uncontrollably. Buffy and Spike walked around gingerly, not knowing what to do.

"I guess we just knock?" Buffy said, motioning to the ominous closed door where muffled screams and moans could be heard behind. "Hmmmm. Doesn't sound like a barrel of monkeys in there but I'll bite." She walked up to it and was poised to rap on the door.

"I'm first!!" A gangly, shaky, bug-eyed guy grabbed Buffy's arm and desperately tried to push her away from the door. "I've been waiting all night to see him, you can't just cut ahead, Blondie!"

"Here now, I think you better get your grubby hands off the lady," Spike said fiercely, pushing the guy off violently. "Youch!" A stinging pain erupted in his head. "O come on!" he yelled, gripping his skull. "That was bloody nothing! This goddamn chip!"

"All night? We can't wait that long," Buffy interrupted him. "Who knows what he could be doing in there. It's time to take some Buffy-like initiative." Striding up to the door, she quickly and easily kicked it open. 

The goggled-eye guy stepped back. "Geez, what is she on? Whatever it is, I want some."

"Anyone home?" Buffy asked brightly as she peered past the door. Two dazed girls, their pupils dilated to the color of night stumbled out of a sumptuously decorated room. Rack sat lounged on a low, silken bed, resting amongst several pillows. "Hmm. Now I kinda get why people are in such a rush to see you. Not much to look at it in that other piss-hole of a room, but _here---"_

"Silence!" Rack commanded, holding up one hand commandingly. Grinning he got up from the bed and walked slowly towards her. "I didn't think you would be able to find me." He glanced over towards Spike. "But I suppose you were aided by your . . ." He sniffed the air around Spike before looking back at him. "Vampire boyfriend."

"On I'm not her boyfriend," Spike explained seriously before Buffy could interject. "I wouldn't mind, but she's not haven't it."

Buffy shook her head in disgust. _Here we are, and he's complaining about our 'relationship'_. "Shut up, Spike," she snapped. She turned to face Rack. "Look, you know why we're here. Willow's my friend, you're a freaky-assed warlock and I would really appreciate if you could cut that pesky habit of possessing her body."

Rack chuckled at her rapid-fire explanation. "You speak succinctly, but you're not very convincing. "Besides, it's not really your place to tell me how to conduct business. She came to me, seeking help and I only ask for my due reward."

"Yeah, well maybe you should have clued her in on what it said in the fine print. It's too bad, because now you'll have to deal with me. Not a lawyer, mind you, but I'm just as litigious . . . and I pack a mean roundhouse." She immediately jumped towards him and tried to swing a rousing uppercut. Rack avoided her by melting into a cloudy mist before forming again together on the other side of the room. She sprinted to the other side of the room and tried to lunge upon him again but rammed into the wall as he dissolved again.

"Very strong. Very quick. Very stupid." Rack continued to chuckle menacingly as he formed once more next to her. "You thought you could come here and try to bully me out of getting only what I deserve from Willow? What kind of tragically foolish person are you?"

"The kind that kills bad demons dead. Even tricky ones like you that transubstantiate. That's just an old parlor trick y'know. Ol' Dracula thought he had me fooled with that one. Showed him good."

Rack eyes gleamed with fascination. "You're the slayer."

"Yup. I guess that accounts for my apparent flaming stupidity. Oh yeah, and my super-human strength." She launched at him again, catching him by surprise for a moment. She gripped him tightly but he dissolved into cloudy particles once more.

"Dammit! How about you stop doing that. It's going to take a lot longer that way." Buffy wiped her hands to her skirt in frustration.

Rack appeared again, back on the bed. "So you're the slayer. I can't believe I have the pleasure." He turned back to Spike who tensed, waiting to find the opportunity to attack him. "And you're a vampire. How deliciously maudlin. Star-crossed lovers. That's terribly romantic." 

"That's it. You take over my best friend's body, you terrorize my sister. And now you demean my private life. Dinnertime says you're done, man-witch." Buffy glared at him as she rushed up to him once, but stopped abruptly when she came within inches of him, afraid he would dissipate again. He smiled devilishly. He opened his jacket baring his chest. 

"What are you waiting for? Do it. Hit me. I'll not run." Rack hissed and suddenly Buffy could see a swirl of chaotic colors, mixing within his pupils. She suddenly felt light, yet deeply drowsy. She watched, fixated by his eyes and holding on to them as she was rendered motionless. He chuckled as he gazed intently at the spellbound Buffy and backed away from her a few feet. "I really can't believe my luck. Running into the Slayer like this really helps move my plan along. First step: kill the Slayer."

"Not bloody likely," Spike snarled. "You'd have to get through me first." Roaring, he rushed to attack, but Rack caught him by the throat and lifted him feet from the ground. He rumbled with laughter as he squeezed tighter, lifting a wooden stake with his other arm and lunging it slightly into him, inches away from his heart. Spike howled with pain. Rack thrust the stake back out and raised it over his head to lunge again, but by this time, Buffy kicked the stake out of his hand, punching him in the chin. 

"Look I just told you. Hypnosis? Just parlor tricks. And I'm a restless chick. I DON'T-LIKE-PARLOR-TRICKS." She punched him, accenting on each syllable. She had backed him against a wall and whipped out a large dagger, ready to finish him off. Spike rushed to him also, ready to beat the living crap out of him as well. Raising the blinding knife over her head, Buffy was abruptly caught by Rack who held fast to her wrist. Spike, who had rammed his fist against the side of Rack's face was promptly gripped by Rack as well. He forced their hands upon his chest as they stared, maddeningly and alarmed at each other. Suddenly a flash of light threw all three heads back and they felt a powerful, painful force pulse within them. Although Spike and Buffy limped against Rack's chest, he held the tight and explored their minds.


	9. Dreams of Reality

Chapter 9: Dreams of Reality

Buffy felt everything go completely cold and black. She could feel everything falling, falling, beneath her. And when it felt like the fall was going to be endless, she felt the ground beneath her feet again. Blinking, she's fought to get the darkness out of her eyes. _Where am I?_

A montage of clipped scenes raced in front of her face feverishly like a nightmare. Buffy running through the graveyard, staking vampire after vampire. Buffy stiffening as the Master overtook her and threw her into the water. Buffy, battling demon after bloody demon. Her eyes became filled by endless darkness, watching her plunge stakes, knives into countless victims. It became a cloud of fast-paced death, pacing her mind so fast that she felt she was about to burst. Suddenly, everything slowed and became blindlingly bright. 

When her eyes became accustomed to the light, she found herself in the hospital, watching Dawn and herself crouch and hold to each other's hands tightly. "It's blood," she was saying. "Just like mine. Summers' blood." 

She was watching the past. Reviewing the memories. Or rather, Rack was, and he was allowing Buffy to see what he was viewing, deep-rooted in her subconscious. 

Later she watched as she breezily entered the house, smiling at an abundance of flowers. She watched as her face turned from casually curious to frightened, stricken. "Mom . . .MOM?! . . . _Mommy_?" 

Standing in front of a roaring fire, she watched herself, sitting in front of a tribal-looking woman, who slithered and shook in the cold desert air. "Death . . . is your gift," the first slayer whispered ominously.

She watched as she knelt, amidst an army of ancient looking knights, flames and rubble. Willow screaming at her to get up. Watching Glory grip Dawn as they fled into darkness. Seeing herself once more, with the same fear-filled look she had when she first saw her mother, lying haphazardly on the couch.

She watched as she stood from the tower with Dawn, garbed in a long, ancient dress. Blood pouring from her sides. Her eyes teary blurred and grasped with the look of deathly fear. Buffy running from her, running into a pool of light, jumping, diving into an abyss of death.

She watched herself form from a skeleton to herself, gasping for air in the tight coffin. Gripping, punching, wrestling with the confining earth, the dense soil. Splitting wood, cotton, silk, her hand erupting from the ground in dreadful triumph.

She watched as she stood in front of her friends at the Bronze, each filled with concern, confusion, then horror when they heard her sing the barely audible line: "I think I was in heaven . . ."

Then all of sudden, watching herself, the look of hurt, pain, coldness as she stared down at him from the staircase, marveling secretly at how beautiful he looked as he gazed back at her in awe and aching wonder. Him tenderly nursing her bruises, counting off the days she had been gone. "147 days . . . would have been 148 today. Except today doesn't count does it?"

She watched them in the alley, practically in the sunlight, yet the both of them so much in the dark that they could see nothing but each other. Then him, a look of shock pass over his face at her words. "They can never know Spike," she was saying softly before creeping away.

She watched as they sat together in the darkness, perched out on the back stoop. "Why are you always here when I'm miserable?" 

"Cause that's when you're alone I reckon'."

She watched as they stood, tied to each other, thrashing violently against each other amongst a collapsing house. She watched as they gripped to each other so fervently, so savagely that she felt her whole body blush just by the memory. And as she watched them crash and buck feverishly into each other, hands groping, lips everywhere, she could hear an eerie, yet familiar voice call, "All alone . . . They all ran away from you . . . They always will."

Suddenly she wasn't watching anymore. She was there, in a large bed, amongst silken sheets. "What? What happened?"

"Buffy." Spike was there. He lay beside her, gasping heavily. "What's going on?"

"I think it's Rack. He's . . . inside our heads. He's been looking at my memories."

"Yeah," Spike gasped again. "He's made me watch myself . . . my childhood . . . when Dru turned me. . . . why?"

"I don't know." Buffy was gasping herself now. "How do we get out of here? This is some kind of hallucination that Rack set up."

"I dunno Buffy. This guy is all kinds of powerful." Spike gazed at the ceiling and at the room around them. "Whose mind are we in? Yours or mine?"

Buffy shook her head. "I d-don't know, I---" she turned to look at Spike. Their eyes locked. "I----" She was cut off by the fire she saw burning beneath Spike's eyes. They both tensed.

They rustled among the sheets furiously to get to each other. Their lips met and fused immediately. She plunged and felt the soft sweetness of his tongue and she sucked on it. She moaned and heard him do the same. He roughly grabbed her back and flipped her over, so that he was on top of her. Curling her legs around his waist, she felt this cataclysmic pressure growing in her and she pulled tighter to him, desperate to relieve it. His body stirred and he ground his pelvis against her, prompting Buffy to arch back and moan. Mouths and fingers roamed and grasped, explored. Gripping to his hair and shoulders, she found herself panting with extreme anticipation. He was sinking his mouth deep into the groves of her neck, kissing, stroking, whining softly, "Oh God, Buffy, I love you so much."

"Spike . . . Spike, I love you too." Her eye's flew open at the realization of what she said. He only responded by kissing her deeper, more urgently. She moaned and forgot about all the ramifications or implications of what she had just said and relished in the feel of his body. She clung tighter to him, her fingernails digging into him as she began to feel waves of searing pleasure rip through her body. He thrust into her savagely and was filling her up, bucking, thrashing, taking her over completely. Deeper, higher, faster until-----

Both of them felt an intense explosion, one so powerful that they had never experienced, and then------gone. They blinked away the blinding pleasure as they released and felt everything go black again. 


	10. Awkward Moments

Chapter 10: Awkward Moments

They were left back in the alley, out of Rack's coven, out of the shining silk bed. Just left where they were, confused and shaken.

"What----what happened?" Buffy asked shakily, groggily getting to her feet. She looked all around, trying to locate Spike with her eyes, but when she saw him, she suddenly had the compelling urge to look down again. He saw the quick flash of embarrassment and shame that sparked in her eye's so briefly that she hadn't even recognized it and sighed.

"I dunno." He winced with pain as he put his hand up to his chest where Rack had stabbed him. Buffy, rushed over to his side, with more concern than she intended to show.

"A-are you okay?" She lightly put her hand up to his chest, but he recoiled from her touch.

"I'm alright. It stings a bloody bit, but I'll live . . . or remain dead, whatever."

It hurt Buffy how fast he jumped from her touch. "Maybe you should get that looked at---"

"Look I've had worse," Spike cut in sharply. "That beefstick boy a' yours dished out worse damage." He sighed when he saw the look of hurt and anger on Buffy's face. "Look, we should be more concerned about this Rack guy. He's obviously a highly dangerous baddie. I mean, he's been inside our heads."

Buffy turned to him, alarmed. "He wouldn't use our bo----"

"No," he interrupted her. "He can only do that with witches."

Buffy breathed a sigh of relief. She had still been recovering from what she had just experienced of what she had just seen. It was only a hallucination, but it felt so real, so vivid. She wondered if he remembered what had just happened.

"We have to get home. We didn't accomplish anything, but we have to find out more about this Rack guy."

Spike's body slumped. "Yeah . . .yeah I guess." His voice tinged with weariness.

Buffy tuned and looked at him, worryingly, penetratingly. He did remember. It had felt so real, how could he not remember? "Spike, that was . . . that, well, what I said----"

"That's was just the hallucination pet." Spike interrupted her grimly.

Buffy stared at him, surprised, disappointed at his firm answer. "Yeah. It was." She was at a loss for words again. She felt her mouth suddenly go dry and she struggled to lick her parched lips. Eager and jumpy to fill the endless silence and unspoken words that had suddenly risen, she pushed her hand through her hair roughly and asked "So . . . what do we do now?"

Spike kicked the ground tiredly. "I'm not sure, luv. We can't just ignore what we've seen here tonight." He avoided her eyes, which he knew at the moment was avoiding his. "I mean . . . this guy Rack is powerful. It seems like he can't be killed that easily. This isn't like one of your "all-wrapped-up-in-an hour" jobs. We gotta be careful with this. Plus . . . he said he had some plan of some sort."

Buffy nodded slowly. "It's probably your average let's-take-over-the-world-type gig. I'll go back to the Magic Box and see if Anya and Xander have come across anything in researching."

"Oh, then . . . um," Spike scratched his head uncomfortably. "Well, I got stuff to do, so I'm gonna . . . "He motioned with his thumb that he wanted to leave.

Buffy stared at him puzzedly, a little hurt by his obvious desire to get away from her. Usually when she went to Magic Box, he rudely invited himself into the researchy fun, if only to get into a humorous spat with Xander or just disgustingly insinuate himself into her presence for a little while longer. "Oh . . . um okay." She looked down at her hands and at back at him. "I'll see you . . . later then."

"Yeah," Spike said rushedly. He turned quickly and took off, his black duster billowing behind him like the shadow of night. Buffy stood there a moment, and tried to ignore a certain, persistent pain inflaming her heart. What had just happened? Why had Spike been so desperate to run away from her? _It's so strange,_ she thought. _I'm the one who should be running away_.


	11. Sordid Discoveries

AN: I updated this fic yesterday with Chapter 10, but for some reason it wasn't showing up. Oh well, here you go, a nice long chapter (kind of goofy too, but hoping you enjoy it all the same).

Chapter 11: Sordid Discoveries?

Buffy sighed deeply as she closed the door to her house behind her. She said she was going to Magic Box, but after the evening she had, she didn't feel like dealing with Anya's random quips about her and Xander's copulation habits and Xander's attempts at wittiness in an effort to cover up his discomfort. "Dawn? Tara? Willow?" she called.

"Here!" a voice called from the kitchen. Buffy walked in to see Dawn and Tara sharing a pint of Ben and Jerry's. They were giggling over something, but Buffy could see Tara's face was lined with worry underneath her laughter.

"How's Willow?" Buffy asked, reaching for a spoon.

"We put her down to sleep. She's ok now, a little shook up, but ok." Tara tried to conceal her impatient worry. "S-so did you find him?"

Buffy sighed as she lunged her spoon into the half-empty pint of Chubby Hubby. "I did, but . . ." She looked over at Dawn. "Hey, shouldn't you be in bed?"

Dawn sighed exasperatedly. "I get it. You know, it would be so much easier for you to just to say 'Get you to your prison cell while I discuss highly interesting matters with all my other friends'." Dawn shook her head back and forth emphatically while using a horrible mock British accent.

"Or it would be easier for you to go to bed so you can wake up in the morning and discuss highly interesting matters at school." Buffy shot her a look.

"Right, because in school we always discuss warlocks that invade the bodies of our best friends." Dawn tugged Buffy's hand insistently. "Please? I want to stay and listen to all the fascinating thingies that go on in the deep, evil underbelly of the demon world."

"To bed!" Buffy said firmly pointing towards the stairs. Sighing, Dawn tromped up to her room. As soon as she heard the thunderous slam of Dawn's door, Buffy turned to Tara.

"W-well what happened? Did you find him? Did you kill him?" Tara's eyes widened in panic.

"Well I found him. Or rather, Spike did." She paused at how sharply she had said his name. "We found his floating coven and we charged in."

"And killed him? Get to the part where you killed him." Tara was frenzied now over worry for Willow. Buffy was about to say something before Xander and Anya burst through the kitchen door.

"Buffy," Xander exclaimed. "What happened to you? I thought we were gonna meet up at the Magic Box. We didn't know if you were alright."

"I---"

"We're so glad you're safe," Anya surprisingly said as she quickly engulfed Buffy into a bone-crushing hug.

"Ummm, thanks," Buffy said confusedly as she pried apart from Anya's tight grip.

"Yes, we were afraid you were dead and then that would be tragic, because I already picked out your bridesmaid dress. Put down a down payment on it and everything. We'll be expecting you to be chipping in some too, by the way." Anya's pretense of actual caring faded quickly.

Buffy wrinkled her nose. "What's going on?"

"Buffy, we were researching this guy Rack, and we found that he was incredibly dangerous. We were worried that he got to you." Xander dispensed a hug also, a little less fervent and violent than Anya's.

"You thought that guy Rack could take me?" Buffy scoffed. "Pfffffft, I'm Super Buffy. You know, the one who took down the likes of the Master? Dracula? Glory? And basically every other harbinger of the Apocalypse?"

"But if he's impossible to kill," Tara interrupted hastily, "What happened? What did you do to him?"

Buffy bit her lip. "Well . . . I roughed him up a little." She sighed "But Xan's right. The guy is impossible to kill. He's all hypnosisy and he can transubstantiate." She turned to Xander. "What did it say it say in your research?"

"Basically what you said. This Rack guy has existed for centuries and has traveled all over the world with his floating coven. He's recently come to Sunnydale, with the plan to what else? Open up the always fun-filled Hellmouth."

"Again?" Buffy groaned. "These evil-type dudes need to up their creativity factor. So what's his plan? What do we do?"

"Well, as powerful as this Rack guy, he can't just flip open the Hellmouth. He needs more ammunition."

Buffy cocked her head confusedly. "Really? Cause Rack doesn't seem like the straightforward lock-and-load type."

"No-Buffy. That's not the type of ammunition I mean. He uses . . . people as ammunition. Like Willow. He takes over their mind and uses them in order to create havoc. Hopefully, with the proper amount of havoc, he can create total confusion and chaos and it will be all that easier to open the Hellmouth."

"But why doesn't he just open it up himself? If he's such a powerful warlock?" Tara looked back and forth from Buffy and Xander.

"He's had a curse put on him by a group of Franciscan monks back in the 18th

century that curbed his powers considerably. The only way to get them back full force is to re-open the Hellmouth. Hence, his wacky plan for city-wide terror." Xander sighed as he took a much-needed breath.

"You sounded so much like Giles right then," Anya mused as she curled a hand through Xander's arm. "So smart and bookwormish."

"Really?" Xander's eyes brightened. "Yeah you're right. Dear lord," he imitated in an appalling Giles accent.

"So how do we kill him?" Buffy interjected sharply. "Obviously the regular tactics won't work."

Xander tore himself from Anya's adoring gaze. "Well, this is kind of the downer Buff. You can't kill Rack. He's untouchable. Think Mayor-touchable. The only way to kill him is . . . by killing a person who Rack chooses to manifest at the time."

Buffy began to pace, clutching her arms together. "Willow," she murmured. She whirled around to face Tara. "Tara, is there anyway you can do a sort of protection spell to keep Rack out of Willow's body?"

Tara breathed deeply. "I guess. I mean, I don't know if it'll be strong enough to keep someone as powerful as Rack out, but I can try . . ." Her voice broke slightly. "What am I saying? I have to try." Tears played down her face. "I mean . . . it's Willow."

Buffy gripped her shoulders tightly and gave her a hug. "Don't worry. We'll figure something out." She let go and in frustration, smacked her head. "Geez, can't we ever fight someone easy? Like that dancing guy, y'know? At least with him we got to sing a few songs . . . and . . . a few more songs. But this . . ." She sighed deeply. God what a long night. It wasn't as boring as Buffy suspected it was going to be, but she had forgotten how boredom became more and more of a frequently desired visitor in her life. She hated it, yet inevitably longed for it in the end. Kind of like a certain vampire she knew. She turned to the rest of the Scoobies abruptly. "Hey, I think things are under control, at least for tonight. So . . . you guys can bail if you want."

"Oh, oh yeah, sure Buff," Xander tugged at Anya's arm as they prepared to leave.

"E-except you, Tara," Buffy said quickly. "Can you stay for a minute?"

Tara widened her eyes in confusion. "O-okay."

Xander and Anya exchanged suspicious glances. "Well, we'll just be leaving then," Anya said as they motioned towards the door.

"Yeah okay guys, I'll see you tomorrow." Buffy seemed impatient for their departure. As soon as they were out the door, Buffy slammed it quickly behind them.

"What do you think that was about?" Xander said as they stood on the back stoop.

"What do you mean?" Anya asked absently, gazing down at her engagement ring.

"Buffy, and that slight show of the rudeness and the wanting-us-out. But not Tara." Xander was hurt. He was becoming impatient with Buffy's continual shows of avoidance towards him. But not Tara. He found them talking about something obviously upsetting at the Magic Box that one time, and lately, it seemed like Buffy was going to Tara more and more, talking secretly. "What do you think is going on with them? Do you think they're in cahoots or something?"

"You mean, do you think they're lesbians?" Anya piped up loudly. 

"Thanks so much for putting that rather erotic, yet uncomfortable image into my head Ahn," Xander said grimacingly. "That's not what I meant."

"Why not?" Anya widened her eyes in recognition. "You know, you might be right, I think they're lesbians."

"That's not what I said!" Xander exclaimed. "I said---"

"Honey, they are so obviously lesbians. Come on, they go off together all the time in other rooms and talk about secret lesbian things, and did you see that back in there? The touching?"

"Buffy was just comforting Tara about _Willow_. You know? The real lesbian girlfriend?"

"But, Xander," Anya probed on, "What if that's it? They always said bringing back Buffy would have consequences. That she would come back wrong. Maybe that's it. Not that I'm saying that's wrong, hey I mean whatever floats your boat---" 

Xander interrupted Anya's efforts at political correctness. "You don't honestly think us resurrecting Buffy made her gay do you?"

"Well _yeah_! I mean it's been know to happen."

Xander glared at her pointedly. "Is it really?"

Anya shrugged. "No, not really. But I honestly think that's it. Not that I'm surprised, I mean, it's not like she's had the best experience with men. And you know that whole theory of like, peer pressure. With her best friend switching teams, it would seem logical that Buffy would follow suit. Look how easy it was for Willow."

"T-that's ridiculous," Xander scoffed. He suddenly pondered a second. He turned back to Anya in panic. "Unless it's NOT. Oh my god, Buffy's gay! I can't believe it! She's gay and she's having an affair with Tara! What are we going to tell Willow?"

"Maybe they can all get together and it can be just a whole type of girl-girl-girl thing," Anya suggested. Xander's eyes gleamed with momentary arousal. He shook it off hurriedly.

"Let's go home," Xander said, pushing Anya from the house. He gazed back at the back door in disbelief. "Buffy gay? Who'd thunk it?" he mumbled.

"So basically, I was just wondering if you could consider . . . moving back in."

Buffy faced Tara from across the kitchen island and looked at her hopefully, waiting for her response. 

"Buffy, I---"

"I know it would be awkward, with Willow and everything, and I know it's a lot to ask. I mean, I could sleep with Dawn and you could have my room. Or, or, Dawn could sleep with me and you could have her room. It's just that . . . I need someone to look after Dawn and Willow, especially after what we found out tonight." She looked deeply into Tara's eyes. "Please Tara."

Tara smiled shyly. "O-of course Buffy. You know I would be happy to. And don't worry about the sleeping arrangements, I can take the couch."

Buffy relaxed and got up to throw her arms around Tara. "Thank you so much Tara. I can't tell you what it means to me."

"I kind of wanted to move back in. I was really concerned over Willow and well, the protection spells are really short lasting. Someone would need to be there to constantly administer them." Tara looked up. "And I know now how much Willow needs me. God, if only I didn't leave---"

"No Tara, don't blame yourself. It was nobody's fault. All we can do now is cope and take care of what needs to be done."

Tara nodded. "I know." She looked into her lap and back up at Buffy. She could detect the absent look of sadness that danced in Buffy's eyes. "Hey," Tara said, laying a hand over one of Buffy's, "Are you okay?"

Buffy shrugged, trying to smile. "It's nothing. It's just . . . at Rack's. I didn't tell you . . . He went inside my head. But he can't use my body," she assured Tara, seeing her widened eyes. "Anyway, he made me look at all these memories of mine and then all of a sudden, he put me through this hallucination."

"What kind of hallucination?" Tara gazed more concernedly at Buffy. 

Buffy shifted uncomfortably in her chair. "It was really . . . vivid." She blushed slightly. "Spike was in it." She sighed, releasing all of her tension. "Tara . . . I said I loved him."

Shocked silence. "Did you mean it?" Tara asked quietly. 

"I don't know!" Buffy exploded. "I mean, it has to have been the hallucination. What else could it be? I . . .don't _love_ Spike." She made a face at the words. "But when then afterwards, when I was around him, I---" Buffy turned to see the microwave clock blaring 2:30 AM. "I . . . should let you go home," she said hesitantly. "You should get your stuff and----"

"No Buffy, it's okay," Tara said soothingly. "I want to . . . listen."

So she did. She listened well into the morning as Buffy poured her heart out to her.


	12. On Again

Chapter 12: On Again

"Two mochachinos, one green tea, one oblong tea, and one Yohoo. Xander, that's yours." Buffy gave him a comically stern glance as she handed him the chocolate milk.

"Didya get the swirly straws too, Buff?" Xander asked excitedly as he grabbed the bottle. 

"No Xander, I'm trying to desperately maintain my identity as a twenty-something adult. Get your funky colored straws yourself." Buffy tried to suppress a smile when she saw his crestfallen face. She handed the mochachinos to Anya and Dawn and the teas to Tara and Willow. They all sat around the table at the Magic Box, burrowed deeply into heavy duty researching. Just like old times, all of them gathered, the usual comical banter flying back and forth, the feeling of ease and familiarity. This had been one the first outings out of the house Willow had made in weeks, and she looked so happy and so typically and Willowishly cheerful. She and Tara sat together, whispering quietly and smiling sweetly at each other, a resurgent spark of bad, lusty feelings glimmering in both their eyes. Anya and Xander were arguing as usual, Xander with the exaggerated hand motions and Anya with the petulant, whiny bluntness in her voice. Dawn just sat and was staring at the volumes of the old books, trying to find old engravings of strange, highly dangerous beings. For the first time in a long while, Buffy surveyed the cozy scene with a feeling of pleasantness, although a small chunk of coldness still remained in her heart. As much as she relished this old feeling of Scooby togetherness, she couldn't stop herself from reverting her thoughts back to a certain somebody. It had been so long since she felt the cool comfort of his body and as much as she reasoned to herself that she didn't need him, it was like an intoxicating drug that claimed her desire, her thoughts. 

"Buffy!"

"Huh?" Buffy quickly shook her head to face Dawn.

"Zone out much? What was that? You thinking deep, hard thoughts? Although I seriously doubt that." 

Buffy shot her sister a look. "As a matter a fact I was. I was thinking about Rack."

"Really? Cause you had this dreamy big-shirtless-guy-on-romance-novel-cover look. Rack must be a major stud."

Buffy gaped at Dawn, raising her eyebrows at an alarming rate. "_What_ about romance novels?" she asked, her voice tinged with threatening apprehension. 

"Umm . . . Not like I would know about that kind of thing. Janice's mom reads them by the dozen and she leaves them out all over the place." Dawn stammered, blushing a deep crimson hue. She ducked her head back into the book in front of her quickly. "Hey look!"

Everyone swiftly turned their attention to Dawn, who held up a book proudly. "Look it's Spike!" she said, pointing to an old engraving of William the Bloody, pre-bleached follicle days. Buffy stiffened, so slightly that no one except Tara could sense it. Xander raised an eyebrow and frowned. 

"We care why?"

"It's just, I get excited every time I come across him in old books," Dawn explained. "I forget he's really old and world-famous and all that. I mean look, it's like finding him in like the 19th century of People's Weekly. If People's Weekly was more like Demon's Weekly . . . and well, you know what I mean." 

"You don't know what it's like knowing someone world famous?" Xander asked pertly. "How 'bout having a sister whose a world known Slayer?"

Dawn wrinkled her nose. "Buffy's . . . Buffy. She clogs the sink and clips her toenails into the carpet. Spike's . . . cool." Dawn smiled playfully. Xander nearly gagged with disgust.

"Spike? Cool? If you mean him being lifeless and centuries older than your average 98.6 degree Joe, then yeah, he oozes cool." No one noticed how Buffy suddenly shuddered, remembering the feel of his ever-cool skin on hers. "Besides. How can you encourage this fanciful fixation you have with Spike when you have a studmeister like me?" Xander puffed up his chest proudly.

"I do not have a crush on Spike!" Dawn yelled embaressedly. "I don't---Buffy, did you tell them?!!" 

"Huh . . . oh sure Dawn." Buffy replied hazedly.

"Buffy!!!!"

"Honey, you can't expect a teenage girl like Dawn to have a crush on you when she could have a crush on Spike," Anya pointed out. 

"I do not have a crush on Spike!"

Xander used his arms to frame Anya in an exaggerated manner. "And presenting Anya. . . my ever devoted, always emasculating fiancée." 

"I'm serious. Why would Dawn pine after a gawky construction worker when there's Spike?" Xander started to gesticulate furiously. " . . . With his penetrating eyes, and that sexy accent . . . those high, chiseled cheeks . . . and his washboard abs . . . not to mention that killer bad boy routine. Being dead helps out with that bit. How could a girl resist his charms?" Anya cocked her head, smiling slightly while Buffy stifled a high pitched moan in her throat.

"You have _got_ to be kidding me!" Xander exploded. "I mean, it's SPIKE. Scary, annoying, perverted, freakish Spike. Any girl who's dumb enough to fall for him deserves to become his next undead playmate." Buffy's eyes widened as Xander went on, lips quivering. "I mean look at all the other loves of Spike's unlife. Blood, carnage, a mental patient with a creepy fixation for dolls and scariest of all, Harmony. The guy's obviously lacking in the taste department. Except for you Buffy. But we can just put that under the "Not If You Were the Last Vamp on Earth" column right?"

"Right. Excuse me," Buffy said abruptly, rushing to push her chair from under her as she ran back to the training room. Tara looked up from Willow and got up to follow her. 

"Was it something I said?" Xander said innocently, responding the to silence that pervaded over the room.

Tara found Buffy savagely attacking the punching bag in the training room. Punch after punch, the poor bag rattled and sagged and was about to combust before Tara lightly put a hand on Buffy's shoulder, and was promptly rewarded by a elbow in the eye when Buffy snapped her arm back.

"Ow!" Tara's hand flew to her eye.

"Oh my god, Tara, I'm so sorry," Buffy gushed apologetically, running to get an ice pack from the freezer. "I'm so sorry….are you okay?"

"Y-yeah, I'm fine" Tara stammered, accepting the ice pack. "Don't worry about it. I just wanted to see if you were okay." She looked back up earnestly at Buffy.

"Oh that," Buffy sighed, motioning towards the door. She slumped over to the couch and collapsed on it. "Xander's right," she mumbled. "He's was just reminding me of how seriously warped I am to even give Spike a second thought." She buried her head in her hands. "Oh god Tara. And I have been giving him second thoughts. And third ones. And fourth ones. What's wrong with me?!" 

Tara sat to next to Buffy and edged her arm around her shoulder. "Buffy, it's okay," she soothed. "It's completely normal to be attracted to someone like Spike."

"You mean _something_ like Spike?" Buffy's voice was razor sharp. "He's not a person, Tara, he's a thing."

"A thing that's staying away from you," reminded Tara. "Isn't that what you want?"

Buffy jumped up and wrung her hands. "I don't know!!! I don't know what the hell I friggin' want. I mean, I hate him more than any being on the earth. . . but . . . I can't stop _feeling_ . . ." She gripped herself tightly. 

"You can't keep denying this to yourself, Buffy, it's not healthy. _You have feelings for Spike_. Deal with it. Forget about what Xander said in there." Tara' voice had an unusual, but more frequent tone of firmness.

Buffy rubbed her head. "I can't. I can never forget. I'm the Slayer. I can never let myself _have_ anything with someone like Spike. Besides," her voice softened. "It's not like anything _could_ happen. It's pretty evident that he doesn't even care. I mean, I haven't seen him for days now."

Tara was becoming more and more used to Buffy's 180-degree jobs. She smiled. "He's probably staying away from you because he knows you'd only get more and more confused around him."

"Right, like I'm not already swirling in a hot, sweaty mosh pit of confusion," Buffy grumbled, ruffling her hair messily. "Trust me to make the Queen mother of mistakes to actually tell him that I . . ." Buffy tightened. "_Love_ him. Uggghhh!"

"But Buffy, how is it a mistake if he's actually staying away?"

"It's not!" Buffy reverted back again quickly. "I mean, ends to means and all that, but the fact that I said that. He knows I didn't mean it. Why does he have to make such a big deal about it?"

"And he's showing his extreme overreaction by not talking to you and avoiding you? Face it Buffy, you're going way too fast. You have to think this through. Spike is not the problem here. You have to sort out what you want."

"Why, when it's so much easier to blame it on him?" Buffy curled her lip sulkily. "I know, you're right." She slumped. "I think I . . . miss him."

Tara smiled and patted her hand. "I know."

"What do you think they're doing in there?" Xander whispered to Anya in a conspiratorial tone. 

"Something lesbiany," Anya replied absently as she leafed through a bridal magazine. 

"Sshh!" Xander motioned toward Willow and Dawn, absorbed in volumes of books over in the corner. "You really think so? God, and right in front of Willow too. Have they no shame? I have a half a mind to go in there and join them, I mean reprimand them." Xander rubbed his hands back and forth in excitement. "I mean, it was obvious enough with Tara moving back in suddenly---but this!"

"Hey where's Tara and Buffy?" Willow called from the table. Xander looked over in worry and alarm.

"They're just probably doing each other," Anya quipped, her voice devoid of emotion. 

". . . Nails!" Xander supplied quickly seeing Willow's quizzical face. "They're doing each other's nails. Buffy's taking up the hobby of painting nails lately. She told me she wants to go to cosmetology school, you know get back up on that occupational bandwagon o- fun." He breathed a sigh of relief when Willow shrugged and looked back at her book. "I can't believe what they're doing to Willow." Xander shook his head. "It's bad. It's as bad as---" Xander's eyes widened when Spike sailed through the door breezily. "Him."

"What's up ducks," he announced, his voice full of mocking fun. "Red. Nibblet." He nodded towards the table. 

"Spike!" Dawn jumped out of her chair to wrap her arms around him. "I haven't seen you for such a long time! I was just thinking of you! We found this old picture of you."

"Oh yeah," he remarked, gazing down at the yellowed picture of him in the opened book. "Back in my early snacking days. Good times, Good times." His eyes gleamed with nostalgia. 

"As fun as sharing time has been," Xander cut in critically. "Why the hell are you here Spike?"

"Don't get your knickers in a twist, Harris," Spike smirked. "I'm just picking up some taggis root, as usual. My blood's pretty partyless without it." Xander gagged.

"Stay!" Dawn insisted. "We're just researching that Rack feller. Hot drinks, musty books, what else could you ask for in a fun-filled evening?" Dawn gave Spike her best puppy dog face.

Spike wavered and looked around to glance at Willow's warm expression, Anya's indifferent one and Xander's enraged one. How he glowed with smirkish joy inside to see Xander like that. Almost as much as seeing Buffy's gleaming smile. Buffy. "Umm, she's not 'ere, is she? Slayer, I mean." His face was lined with caution.

"Like you would be really crestfallen if she was, Spikester," Xander sniggered. 

"Well I'm not much for her bitchy antics tonight," Spike snarled. "I just want to get my taggis root and get on my way." 

"No you have to stay Spike!" Dawn was tugging at his duster. "I never see you! You don't even visit." Dawn's face hardened.

"Now Platelet, you know that wouldn't be very kosher, with me not bein' the most welcome houseguest at chez Summers. You know you can visit by crypt anytime you want."

"I know, but Buffy---"

"Buffy." Spike's eyes drifted past Dawn to the back door. Buffy stood framed in the doorway, looking beautifully fearful as her eyes locked into his. 

"Spike." Everything around them was disappearing, leaving only hazeled and blued orbs, tied to each other. Worried, disgusted faces became blurred and Buffy could only see the soft clarity that was his eyes.

"I, uh . . . just came to get my root." . 

"Oh." Buffy's voice was so much softer than Spike expected. It had been nearly two weeks since he last touched her, and the memory of what she felt like around him, her velvety, sweat-slicked, honeyed skin, was driving him crazy. 

"How ya been, Slayer?" His head cocked.

Buffy squinted. "What do you care?" she shot back, remembering his response that one time. 

Spike straightened. "Don't." he growled. He whirled to face all of the other Scoobies, who by this time was totally confused by this recent display. "I'll just go down stairs, get m'root and be off on my way." He rushed towards the basement door, his black duster trailing behind him. 

Everyone was silent for a moment while Buffy fidgeted where she stood. She waited a few minutes before announcing to the rest, "I um . . . have to get something downstairs . . . a book." With that, her heels clacked the floor as she rushed downstairs.

Xander turned to Anya. "What was that about?"

Anya shrugged. "Dunno." Her eyes widened. "You know what?! I bet Spike knows about her and Tara and she's going downstairs to get Spike not to tell."

"You don't think—" Xander asked , his eyes widened. 

"Geez, can you believe this shameful deception that's taking place? I mean, it's so obvious how can Willow not tell? Honestly, these things are totally in front of one's nose, who could be stupid enough to ignore them?" Anya tsked pointedly as she walked away.

Spike waited a few minutes for the sound of Buffy's footsteps on the basement stairs. As he waited he reflected on the past few days.

Bloody torture. Every night, he lay awake, writhing and thrashing in discomfort, wanting her warmed body beside his to lure him to sleep. Feeling the only way for release was in her arms and on her heaving chest. He wanted her so much he could hardly breath. Not like he needed to breath, but the irony was not lost on him. But he had stayed away. Because of her bloody hurtful words, her continual denial, her total willingness to continue to play with him like some beggin' wanker. Because he had to do what he could to retain the little pride he had left. Because of the shamed look in her eyes that night she told him. Those three little words that made time stand still and made Spike feel totally complete for the first time in his existence. He could never forget the way she had so quickly forgotten, how she continued to sit content in her own bloody walls. 

He thought he could stand it. Maybe ease her out of those walls gradually. Tease her, irritate her with his usual smarmy cockiness. But he couldn't. He hadn't expected it to hurt so much. It had hurt when she was gone and dead, but this. He writhed in pain at the inconceivable idea that she could possibly love him, and he had somewhat dulled the pain by giving up entirely, yet dreaming of her still. But now that he tasted her, he touched her, there was no way he could pretend that things could ever be the same. He was so close, yet so painfully far. For her to know how deeply he was devoted to her, how quickly he would have staked himself to dust for her, and to still play with his emotions, curling her lip over seductively and stiffening it the next minute, twirling his emotions up and down like a friggin' Chinese yo-yo . . .well, that made darker than anyone he had ever met. Yet he hated and loved her with a passion he could barely comprehend.

Buffy gingerly walked down the steps and found Spike sitting on a crate, smoking a cigarette. She had expected him to have jumped out from her in the darkness, his cool hands possessing her mouth and hands. But he just sat there, tired and angry. Not the fiery Spike she knew. She had done this to him. Tired him, but never, ever made him leave. She stood in front of him uncomfortably.

"Spike, I----"

"I know what you're gonna say Slayer." He held his hand up affirmatively. "Nothing's between us, I'm a monster and the rest of that jazz. You can save it, cause we've soft shoed this dance more than once, and I'm in no mood."

Buffy lowered her head. "Spike, why did you come here?"

"I told you, for my root." Yet he was just sitting there, with no root in his hand and no intention to move.

"Really? Then why are you just sitting here when you know all the taggis roots are in the crate over there?" She pointed towards the far side of the room. Spike scoffed slightly. 

"Can't a bloke sit around for bit, smokin his fags? This is a public place and I'm not botherin' no one."

"Spike," Buffy repeated. She took a few steps towards him, her hair glistening in the dim light of the basement. Her smell was intoxicating, lavender and vanilla, as well as the distinct scent of arousal. Spike could never get that smell out of his clothes no matter how hard he tried. Her small breasts were erect, as she stood straightened. Spike was so tempted to bury his head in what she was currently offering. "I know you've been avoiding me."

Spike hesitated as he smirked and cocked his head. "What, you can't imagine that a creature of the darkness has other things to do than moon after the likes of you?"

She continued to slither towards him slowly. "I . . I know that you're angry . . . and well, impatient with me."

Spike's eyes widened. What was she trying to say. Was she actually apologizing?

"And I know that I can send mixed signals sometimes . . ." She was cut off by Spike snorting.

"That's the understatement of the year," he smirked. 

Buffy paced herself. "But, I just wanted to tell you that . . ." she took a deep breath. "I missed you."

Spike could not believe what he was hearing. Her? Missed him? Could it be that she wasn't all namby-pamby happy when he was strangledly trying to stay away from her? He paused to look into her eyes and could see the telltale sign of desire in them. He breathed out sharply as she moved in and stood only a few inches from him. "Spike?" she repeated gingerly for the umpteenth time. 

Suddenly, he grabbed her head and rammed her lips to his, hungrily seeking her tongue. She needily gave it to him as she wrapped her arms around him and panted against his mouth. He brushed his hands through her long locks and his mouth drifted to her neck. She groaned softly and he lifted her up, hands cupping her backside, drawing him close to the valley between his legs. He whirled around, settling his weight on top of her, with her leaning against the crate. Grinding his hard arousal between her legs, he smirked at the small gasp emitted between Buffy's parted lips. She instinctively curled her legs up against his hip, drawing him into her waiting, pulsing warmth that lay beneath the light obstructive layer of silk and lace. Groaning low in his throat he ripped open her buttoned shirt, causing her to fly into a fit of giggles as he continued to trail kisses down her neck. Arching her up, he positioned her so that he could have her right there, on the crate. 

"What's taking so long?" Xander fidgeted from the front desk. "Oh my God!" his eyes widened in shock. "What if . . . oh no."

"What Xander?" Anya asked, trying to ease an answer out of her cherry tomato colored boyfriend.

He grabbed her arm and whispered anxiously into her ear," What if Spike does tell? What if Buffy is taking so long because he's blackmailing her? Like, he'll tell everyone if Buffy doesn't give him what he wants? That undead lowlife would do a thing like that too, anything to get to Buffy." He rammed his fist into his other hand, threateningly, but later winced from his own strength, shaking out his hand. "We can't let this happen!" He fretfully said to Anya, who by now was too absorbed in admiring the money in the cash register to care. "I mean, we can't just let Spike come in with his 'bloody hell's' and his hideously bad imitations of Sid Vicious and break up our well formed pool of Scoobiness. The Scoobiness must be preserved." Xander stuck an assertive finger in the air. Anya, unimpressed with his firm declaration, continued to count the money.

Buffy came back upstairs by herself, looking unusually disheveled. Her clothes all looked slightly awry and her shirt was buttoned wrong. No one had seem to have noticed. She was eternally glad that the basement was for the most part soundproof, since she was paranoid that she would come up to questioning looks about the large amounts of thumping noises coming from downstairs. As well as the alarming amount of "Oh Gods" and stifled groans. She was also glad that there was a window that Spike could furtively whisk out of downstairs, leaving her only with a passionate kiss and a promise to see her later. She tried to smooth her tangled hair, noting that some of his musky scent still lingered there. Trying to be casual, she plopped into a seat next to Tara who gave her a knowing smile. 

"Where's Spike?" Xander asked apprehensively, seeing the furtive exchange between Tara and Buffy, and noting the sudden disappearance of Spike. 

"What, huh?" Buffy turned with stiffened fear at the acknowledgement of Spike by Xander. "He, um, left, you know, right after he got the taggis root." Xander did not look convinced.

"Where's the book?" Dawn questioned casually. 

"Huh? Oh . . ." Panic spread through Buffy as she rushed to find an excuse. "I couldn't find it downstairs. I tried looking everywhere, and I couldn't find it."

"What were you looking for?" Willow's voice tinged with her old, remarkable alacrity. 

"Umm . . . ." Buffy was horrible at this lying thing. She couldn't understand how she was able to keep the secret of her slaying habits from her mom for so long. "Magical . . . Chronicles by John . . . Brown," she said, inwardly smacking her head for thinking of such a lame title. 

"Here it is," Dawn said, giving her sister a puzzled look. "It was sitting right in front of you all evening." She handed her the voluminous book that Buffy accepted with a thud. 

"So you and Spike are. . . . 'cool' right?" Xander tried to give Buffy an understanding nod, but only provided confusion and sheer panic on Buffy's part. _Oh my God he knows!_ she cried internally. 

"If you mean 'cool' in a fifties dancing street gang sort of way, no," she garbled breezily, trying her best to sound as flippant as possible. "If you mean 'cool' in a casual, professional slaying type of way, yes." She looked up at Xander and was immensely relieved to see the suspicion drain out of his eyes. _Wow, _she thought, noting the relaxed acknowledgement in Xander's eyes. _I can't believe he's handling this so well_. _Oh well, that's one less person I have to tell. _Suddenly feeling much lighter, she turned around to face to utterly confused faces as Dawn and Willow exchanged worried eyebrows. They looked about as lost as Tokyo business tourists. She suddenly began to spontaneously giggle, feeling so much better about these frequent slayer cram sessions they had than she had for a long time. 


	13. Fluff Prevails-For Now

AN: Okay before anyone flames me for my lack of the medical expertise, I included some medical lingo in this chapter that I'm sure is incorrect. What can I say, the onlu medical training I've received is the bits and pieces of ER I've seen. So apologies in advance if I make any of you med students or doctors cringe. 

Chapter 13: Fluff Prevails-For Now

Yes, for another short spasm of time, Buffy Summers walked with a bounce in her step. No reappearance of Rack, harmony all around with her friends and family, and the company of a certain seductive creature of the night certainly perked up her spirits. It was almost surprising how quickly she and Spike fell back into this game of holding each other only in the darkest shadows of back alleys, under stairs and closets in the Bronze, and yes, one time in the bathroom of the Magic Box (Tara had helped her disinfect it later). Other times, gentler, sweeter were often in his candle-lit crypt of even sometimes her bedroom, late at night. 

And still a nagging, persistent voice in her urged her to come out with it once and for all, to the rest of her friends and family. Most of the early disgust and shame had faded, but spots of guilt still remained. Not only for not telling everyone, but not doing it for Spike's sake. She often thought it puzzling that she had even began to consider his feelings, one's she hadn't even imagined he had up to a few months ago. But it was so different now. She felt safe and warm in his cool presence and her heart peaked every time he gazed down at her with a lazy smile plastered across his face. It was even nice. Well, not all the time. He still retained that infuriating cockiness that enraged Buffy so that she kept stakes near her at all times, just to see him tense and wait. They fought constantly, but it seemed that just as soon, he had pulled her back into his arms and back into their own way of aggressively making up. It always made for liveliness, and always seemed to keep Buffy on her toes. It was never boring.

And it wasn't just the lust anymore. She remembered the first almost-domestic times they experienced, like the time he showed up with a sweet, unusually cocky free smile at her door, holding a handful of daisies. Spike with daisies. That would be the day, she often thought, but there he was. He took her off to a picnic, a rather unorthodox one, since is was at night in the park. But it was so sweet the way he had brought some of her favorite foods and the way he patiently fed it to her. She had no idea he could be so romantic, although it certainly did make sense. The gentle way he had treated Drusilla and how he wrote poetry for Cecily reminded Buffy of how soft formerly Big-Baddie Spike could be. 

But she could never have imagined that Spike would ever offer his arm for her as they took moonlight walks down by the lake. Or that they could sit in silence so comfortably just in front of the T.V., the quietness only interrupted by snide remarks to the inane characters on the stupid soap opera they watched. Buffy giggling at Spike's aggression towards poor Tabitha for mistreating Timmy that way, and Spike smiling, holding her close beside him tightly. Of course they could only do these things when Dawn was out with Willow and Tara, or if they said they were spending the patrolling while all the rest went a-bronzing. Even Riley and Angel weren't this way with her. When Riley took her out, it usually felt mundane, no matter what they were doing, even when he was trying his damnedest to make it special. She always appreciated his rather dilapidated efforts with soft affection, but she could never say that their relationship was the romance to end all romances. With Angel, it was awkward most of the time. In each other's presence, they always felt anxious, not knowing what to say, falling victim to the slow-burning uneasiness that claimed them both. She hadn't recalled ever feeling glazed with delight and pleasure with Riley and Angel the way she was with Spike.

Buffy didn't know if this meant love or what. She wasn't sure if she was ready to admit that to herself. But Spike stopped pushing, never speaking about that night at Rack's. He was just happy enough to have her around the majority of the time with her not kicking his ass. Buffy at times would sit back at look at his hard, chiseled face in amazement, remembering that this was once the man that had tried to kill her multiple times. She let that go, but it still astonished her sometimes and sent waves of apprehension down her spine. She was looking at him that way that afternoon as they sat in each other's arms in Buffy's bed.

"Here now," Spike inquired, looking down at Buffy who sat reclined between his legs, head resting on his chest. "What's that look for?"

Buffy smiled at the way he was brushing his fingers ever so softly down her bare arms. "S'nothing. It's just that . . ."

"Just that. . . .?" Spike's eyebrows raised as his voice drifted when he went to nuzzle the top of her forehead. 

"When you first saw me that night, behind the Bronze, did you think I was hot?" 

Spike chuckled loudly at her innocently put question. "I would have to been blind to think otherwise," he said smiling.

"Even when you wanted to kill me?" Buffy's voice did not change in softness and she played with his hand, intertwining the fingers between her own. 

Spike propped his chin on the top of her head thoughtfully. "Well a course, pet. I hated you then, and that was at first glance."

"Thanks a lot," Buffy snorted, suddenly breaking free from his hand. 

Spike caught her hand once more. "What I mean is, I hated you without even really knowing you. You intrigued me and stirred up some powerful force within my body. I never knew that kind of feeling before."

Buffy turned to look at him. "The feeling of hatred?" she said, her eyes cold.

Spike smiled, still nuzzling his lips to hers. "A passionate feeling, luv. In my book, you can't have hate without love. One feeling replaced by the other."

Buffy pushed him back, his head crashing into the headboard. "So what, you hate me . . . and love me to? This is sounding more and more like fairy-tale material every day."

Spike propped himself up to edge closer to her. "That's not what I meant. You were asking me if I thought you were hot. I did. In a raging, bloodthirsty type o' way."

"Color me thrilled that you were getting your violent jollies off on plans for my _death_." 

Spike chuckled. "I'm just saying that you turned me on, Slayer. Even when I didn't know you, you drew me. Much like you do now." Swiftly, he grabbed her arms and shifted her over so she was caught beneath him. She yelped.

"D-Dawn's going to come home soon," she said, panting already with excitement. 

Spike looked over at the clock on her table. "Not for another half-an-hour. Let's see?" Spike raised his head in mock ponderance. "What could we do in half-an-hour?' Buffy emitted a giggle and reached up to meet his lips that quickly dove into her own, possessing the sweetness of her tongue. Groaning, she moved so that her arms were up over her, grasping onto his neck. Spike moved so that he could shoulder his duster off. Buffy had wrapped her legs around his waist, arching up to him and causing him to groan deeply. Spike's mouth moved to nip at the tender area at her neck as Buffy sighed heavily in response. She absently moved her hands down so that she was unbuckling his belt in haste, leaving Spike to groan as well. Suddenly, Dawn burst into the room, bright-eyed and curious, one deadly combination for the Dawnster.

"Hey Buffy guess what I'm home ear---WHOA!" She backed off nearly out of the room and looked at the scene before her with gleeful shock.

"Dawn, get out of here!!!!!" Buffy immediately yelled, getting up quickly, brushing a panicked Spike aside.

"Oh my God, I can't believe this!" Dawn exclaimed, her eyes widened the size of dinner plates. "I mean, I'm not surprised, but WOW!"

"DAWN!!!" Buffy's eyes flashed with unrestrained anger as she started to forcibly shove Dawn out. She stopped when she realized what time it was. "Wait . . . why are you home so early?" She signed with harsh frustration. "Have you been skipping?"

Dawn threw a wrathful look. "Right, because I'm clearly dumb enough to burst into my sister's room and tell her all about my hooky habits. No stupid, we got to go home early. Something about a gas leak. A room in school nearly blew up and the rest of school had to be evacuated. So don't worry, it's just potential death and destruction. Nothing as extreme as me cutting school."

Buffy's brows furrowed. "Gas leak? It's such a new school, how could there be maintenance problems already?" 

Dawn shrugged as she plopped onto Buffy's bed. "Don't know, don't care." Her eye's sparkled with intense curiosity and she did not even try to contain her mischievously wide grin. "I just caught you and Spike bout ready to DO IT. So spill." Spike couldn't help but cockily smirk which he promptly changed to an unwavering line when he saw the stern look on Buffy's face."

"A. We were not doing _anything_ on my bed," Buffy said in her my-sister-is-the-biggest-pain-in-the-ass voice. "B. You are never allowed into my room again. I'll get Tara to do a dis-invite spell or something."

Dawn reclined onto the bed lazily, one hand propping her head up. "That only works for vampires," she yawned. "Besides it's not my fault you and Spike were sucking face. You should have just a left a sign on the door or something."

Buffy winced when she heard Dawn describing her and Spike's activities that way. "DAWN GET OUT OF HERE NOW!!!" Her voice could not contain the growing rage boiling within her.

"No!" Dawn insisted. "I want to know everything. I mean, what a shock! Well not really, I always knew the Spike was jonesing for you, Buff, but w-wow! Now you're like, officially my big brother and stuff." Dawn bounced off the bed and happily wrapped an arm around intensely amused Spike.

"Finally someone who can put you in your place, Littl' Bit," he responded, speaking in a playfully growling voice. Dawn made a face.

"Just cause you're giving it to Buffy doesn't mean you can tell me to do my homework now and stuff." Dawn punched him on the shoulder, grinning madly

"That's enough!" Buffy interrupted. Her hands flew to her hips as she made it apparent through her facial expression how disgusted she was. "You had better get out of here by the time I count to three. ONE . . . TWO . . . THRE----"

All three stopped and froze with fear as they heard the front door slam, all of them turning to stare out the door. Dawn whirled around. "That's probably Willow home early." 

Buffy couldn't believe this was happening. Why of all days did she choose to bring Spike home? The day where suddenly everyone's schedule seem to shift an hour early? "Either get the hell out or close the door!!" she hissed to Dawn. Dawn crept towards the bedroom door and shut it quietly. Afterwards, she bounced right back to Buffy, grasping her hands as if she was trying to shake information out of them. 

"So when did this happen? Are you guys together? Does everyone else know?" Dawn rapidly rolled out all her questions as Spike went back to lazily prop his feet up on the bed. 

Buffy sighed. "Dawn I'm not going to discuss this with you, seeing how it is _my_ business and not yours and all."

Dawn whined. "But you gotta! I have to know! And it is my business and all too. You're my sister and you've been doing . . . things," she made a face, "in our house. You at least told me about Angel and Riley." Spike couldn't help grimacing at those names. "Who else knows about this?" Dawn asked persistently.

Buffy's lips tightened. "Tara and I'm not sure, but I think Xander."

Dawn frowned. "Oh. Less people to tell."

Buffy grabbed her arms and shook her. "You are not telling anybody, you understand me? Not even Xander, because I'm not sure if he really knows."

"Come on luv, the girl's obviously excited," Spike pointed out. "You can't expect her to keep it in. That's unnatural for a girl her age."

"Yeah huh!" Dawn protested, pointing to Spike and his justification. "You can't expect me not to make a big deal about this, because it _so_ is."

"Whether it is or not, you are not telling _anybody_," Buffy gritted. Spike frowned, seeing how insistently she wanted to keep this a secret. _Bloody hell_, he thought tiredly. _She's not freakin' out 'bout this again, is she? Why is it so hard for her to just tell?_

Dawn opened her mouth to curtly argue further, but was interrupted by Tara's voice calling loudly. "Buffy?! Buffy are you there?!" Buffy stiffened and made her way downstairs, Spike and Dawn trailing her. When she got downstairs she found Tara slumped over against the door with her face streaked with tears. 

"What happened, what is it?" Buffy asked firmly. 

Tara looked up at her with watery eyes. "It's Willow. She's in trouble again."

Buffy swallowed away the heavy lump that suddenly formed in her throat. "Rack?" Tara nodded. 

"Down . . . at the school . . . they found her near the gas pipes. She's unconscious and it appears she turned them on." Tara's voice broke and wavered. 

"Rack must have taken over her body again and went to school to turn the gas pipes on," Dawn murmured.

"And thank you Dawn for stating the obvious," Buffy sighed. "Where is she?"

"Hospital." Tara sounded deathly quiet. "She has a concussion and they haven't been able to bring her back to consciousness."

Buffy's eyes filled with tears. She glanced over her shoulder to look at Spike. His reassuring eyes gave some comfort to her worried heart and she grabbed her jacket. "Let's go," she whispered softly.

Buffy and Spike sat silently on the cold, hard vinyl hospital chairs. "I hate this place worse than hell," Buffy muttered, looking down her full, cold cup of coffee. Spike glanced sideways at her and reached for her hand. 

"I know pet," was all he said, but it was enough as she accepted his hand and leaned her head down on his shoulder. She was glad he was here. 

"It seems inevitable that I should spend most of my days here," Buffy remarked, her eyes gazing vacantly in front of her. She turned to look at Spike. "I mean, weren't we just here for Dawn a couple days ago? And now this?" She sighed, all of the tiredness emitted out of her body with one weary outtake of air. "I practically lived here when my mom . . ." She couldn't finish, her eyes filling with fresh tears. Spike put his hand up to cup her head as he brought her forehead to his lips. She put her head back onto his shoulder. "I'm glad you're here," she murmured quietly. 

"Me too," Spike said, warmed by the fact that she was letting him hold her and kiss her in a time like this. Not like all the times that ponce, Riley was with her as she paced back and forth this same room, agonizing over her mother.

"Hey guys." Xander and Anya approached the lobby waiting area with flowers and a teddy bear. Buffy and Spike tore themselves apart quickly before the other couple could notice. 

"Hey," Buffy said raggedly, looking at the flowers and stuffed animal. 

"We um, brought Willow a kind of condolence gift, y'know so she would be a little comforted and forget about the fact that she endangered the lives of school-age children?" Anya waved the small teddy bear around.

"Okay, um sweetie?" Xander lightly put his hands on Anya, once again directing her on the proper etiquette of humans. "When we get in there, you hand her the gifts, and then DON'T SAY ANYTHING." He waved his hands in the air to make it implicitly clear. He looked back at Spike and Buffy. "You guys looked wrecked. How long you been here?"

"Four hours," Buffy replied. "They took Willow in for some X-rays or scans or something, and we're just waiting for some news about how's she doing."

"Where's Tara and Willow?"

"Down in the cafeteria, trying to get something to eat. And probably visiting. We've already made friends with all the hospital staff already. I bet Sue is sneaking them a free Jello."

Xander sank into the seat next to her, wrapping one arm over her shoulder. "Willow's going to be okay," he assured her. Buffy gave him a weak smile. 

"But why now? W-why did Rack possess her now?" she asked. "What about the protection spells? Why did they stop working?"

"Because they weren't strong enough anymore," Tara replied, arriving back with Dawn and various cups of Jello. Dawn was busy handing out the cups, giving the only blood-colored one to Spike. "I think they weakened with every use." She sat next to Xander. "I give them to her all the time, but they . . . just stopped working." Tears rolled down Tara's face. 

Buffy went over to crouch in front of her. "Don't worry Tara, everything is going to be cool. Maybe there's a way we can still figure this out. At least no one was hurt."

"Uh, I wouldn't be too sure about that guys," Anya motioned slowly towards the hospital T.V., where there was a special news report. 

"Breaking news just in. Today, Sunnydale has been under attack from heavy rioting and looting, citywide. This unusually violent behavior has been exhibited through normally respectful citizens of Sunnydale, leaving some to conclude if it is once again and mystical force or activity acting upon the city. Libraries have been ransacked, stores robbed and broken into, banks held up and bonfires have been set in the street. Many point out the instigators as various Wiccans, a group of magically inclined people, known to be usually peaceful. Police and authorities are arresting many members of known Wiccan occult groups and bringing them in for questioning." 

Everyone grimly turned away from the T.V. "Harsh," was all Xander could mutter.

"It's Rack," Buffy said quietly. "It's begun. He's trying to open the Hellmouth, and create chaos to make it happen. And he's using Willow."

"What about Tara?" Dawn whined clinging to her. "The news said that they're arresting lots of witches who probably are all Racked-up. She's not, but what if they take her into custody?"

Tara looked seriously at Buffy. "Dawn has a point."

Buffy thought a moment. "You'll just have stay low-profile for awhile until this blows over," she concluded, getting up and pacing.

"And what 'bout this Rack guy?" Xander pointed out. "We can't just let him get his kicks with helpless people. Especially Willow." His fists were clenched. 

Buffy continued to pace. "We have no idea how to touch him," she said grimly. She paused and hugged herself. "God! If only I wasn't so concerned and absorbed in my own life," she was trying not to look at Spike. "I could have protected her, helped her from the beginning."

"Cor, Slayer, don't be doing none of that," Spike said comfortingly, laying a hand on Buffy's shoulder, which Buffy responded by smiling thankfully at, almost against her will. Xander saw the small exchange and raised his eyebrows slightly. "It's no one's fault, but it's everyone's business to see this Rack get what's comin' to him."

"Yeah that's so easy with him being totally un-killable and all," Xander reminded. "And from the looks of it, ubiquitous too." He looked around at all the confused faces. "What, Xander knows big words. Is that such a shock? It means 'always present'." Spike snorted at him.

"Xander's right," Tara agreed. "He obviously can manifest himself in more than one person at a time."

"So what do we do?" Anya asked, gazing at all the serious faces. "Kill all of his magic-induced cronies?"

"We can't do that," Buffy said tiredly.

"Why not?" Spike asked quickly. Buffy rolled her eyes.

"Because they're not _demons_. They're people. People like Willow. Innocent people who are under Rack's trap."

All of a sudden, a sharp crash could be heard down the hall. Buffy turned to look and saw Willow stalking down the hallway in a hospital gown. She was pushing all of the nurses and attendants who tried to restrain her off, throwing a couple into the walls. She threw a gurney at the front desk where many promptly ducked and made her way to Buffy.

"Slayer," she hissed in Rack's grovelly voice. "I knew you would be here."

"Rack." Buffy glared at Willow, whose eyes were pitch black. She cocked her head. "We have to stop meeting like this. Maybe something more my style. Over a candle-lit dinner, soft music, _not in my friend's body_---"

"Silence," he roared. "I just came here to warn you."

"And so you decided to send a person-o-gram?" Buffy said, voice dead pannish. 

"I just wanted to tell you that you cannot stop what has begun. You think you can kill me, destroy me. Never." He began to rumble with laughter. "Because I'll never leave Willow alone again. Not until she is fully mine. And I can make her mine you know. Every time I fill her body, her spirit, I only become stronger and she becomes weaker. She'll weaken so much that there'll be nothing left. Soon she will be only filled with me, a person devoted to the darkness. And you'll never, ever have your sweet Willow again." Buffy stood in front of Rack, fear cursing her and making her frozen as she realized what he was saying. The moment she could snap out of it, Willow lurched backward and cried out. She collapsed on the floor again.

"Willow?" Tara screamed anguishedly. Doctors and nurses rushed to Willow's side, bounding her to a cart and immediately hooking her up to a monitor. 

"B.P. dropping by 80," one nurse said. 

"Pupils not dilating."

"She's turning comatose," a doctor yelled as they rushedly wheeled her into another room.

"What?! What's going on?" Tara yelled as she tried to push away the nurses that restrained her. "What's happened?! Where are they taking her?!"

The nurse pulled back gently. "We're doing all we can Miss. She's falling back into unconsciousness and she's going to the ICU."

"The ICU?" Xander asked, his face pinched white with fear. "Is she---"

"She'll be fine sir," was all the nurse said before leaving the group standing there astounded and gazing at each other in shock.


	14. Painful Solutions

AN: The idea of using Angel's blood in a ritual was "borrowed" from another fanfic I've read here by Sarahvampgirl called "Love's Bitch". I thought I would just note that in case I get in trouble or something. But hey, we're all basically stealing Joss' creations, what's a little borrowing amongst ourselves? 

Chapter 14: Painful Solutions

"I can't believe this," Xander whispered, almost inaudibly. His throat and chest felt so tight that he was surprised he could get a word out of them. He gripped the edges of table at the Magic Box and stared vacantly in front of him. Buffy sat next to him, the same expression of shock and sadness on her face. Tara sat huddled in the corner, still letting the tears wash over her glistening face. Dawn sat worriedly and unusually quietly at the front desk. Spike stood silently, next to Dawn, smoking a cigarette with a thoughtful expression on his face. Even Anya was caught up in the morose mood and worriedly looked from person to person as she dusted. 

"So if we don't kill him, he'll take over her," Buffy was saying emotionlessly, "He'll break down her spirit and kill her."

Xander whirled towards her. "We can't let this happen!" He exclaimed. "This _can't_ happen again!" Buffy involuntarily cringed at the words. Xander softened as he noted this and wrapped an arm around her. Buffy continued to stare vacuously. 

"We haven't found a way to keep Rack out of her body. The only way is to kill him, but . . ."

"I still say that we just kill one of the many other losers Rack picked for playmates," Spike said harshly although he softened his voice when Buffy turned to glare at him. "Sorry luv, I didn't mean Red."

Buffy stood up and started pacing, a telltale sign of worry for her. "We can't," she sighed. "As much as it would stop all this madness---" she motioned towards the door and the window where they could hear the blare of sirens and screams coming from outside, "We can't just kill an innocent person."

"But some of them _aren't_ innocent," Xander said, his voice full of anger. "What about Amy? She took Willow there under false pretenses, got her all stuck on some guy that uses human bodies as currency. Why can't we find her and---"

"Xander!" Buffy looked shocked at what he was implying. "Amy and people like her had no choice in this. Sure, she made a bad decision in going to Rack, but they had _no_ idea what he was about. We can't possibly _kill_ them because of it!"

"But Buffy," Spike said, his voice softly insistent. "Think of it. Just _one_ person, just _one_ can make this stop. Can make all this soddin' whirly-go-round o' blood and gore stop. Personally, I don't mind the not hurrying, kind of harks back to the old days for me but still---"

Buffy cut him off, enraged at how Spike could still maintain his violent tendencies in a time like this. "NO. We are not going to kill anybody. We can't."

Xander stood up and briskly strode over to Buffy. "I hate to agree with the Melanin-Deprived Wonder over there, Buff, but he's right. We have to think about this. I know the morals of this but---"

"It's not even about the morals," exclaimed Buffy with a voice full of anger and hardness. "I watched Faith _kill_ an innocent man, Xander. That's not something you can forget about. Even if the guy could have been corrupt or brain dead, he was a person. A human being. We can't take life from any person involved in this." She looked firmly at Xander with agonized eyes.

"Buffy," Spike sounded more caustic, harder now, impatient with her stubbornness. "We have no choice. It's not like these people have anything going for them."

"They could be Willow!" 

"Exactly. They could be Willow. People exactly like Willow. People that Rack are just using, destroying, breaking down until there's nothing left. So what's the point if we kill one of them and kill him as well?"

Buffy shook her head resolutely. "No. We don't know that. We can't take that chance." She gazed deeply into his eyes. "We can't risk killing an innocent person."

Frustrated, he grabbed her by the arms and seemed like he was trying to shake sense into her. "You're the Slayer," he told her through gritted teeth. "You take risks. You handle things like this all the time."

She threw his arms off her, incensed. "I'm the Slayer. I'm not a killer." She glared at him with rage. "Although you can't understand that, being a soulless demon and all. You don't care about adding to carnage that's already out there."

Spike stepped away from her slowly. "That's not fair Slayer," he spat out testily. 

"What's fair? That my best friend's slowly being killed by something beyond her control? Fair that everyone is coming to me, pressuring me to take a life? I know death. I felt it. I am not going to be impose that to any human."

Spike began to notice that Buffy was shaking. "Buffy---" he started softly, stepping nearer to her.

"Don't," she uttered as she recoiled from him. Spike sighed and ran his hands through his platinum hair. 

"So what do you want us to do?" he said with tired patience. She whirled to glare at him again.

"Do? _You_ don't do anything. I take care of this myself."

"Buffy, you need someone on your side---"

"I sure as hell don't need you!" She yelled as she grabbed her jacket and began to head for the door. Spike stood back and looked as if he had been slapped in the face.

"Buffy!" Dawn exclaimed fearfully. "You can't just go out there! The rioting—"

Buffy turned to give her a reassuring look. "Don't worry Dawn, I can handle it. I'm just going out to patrol, maybe think of something, clear my head."

"Wait, I'll come with you," Spike said, striding over beside her. 

"No." Her voice was as cold as her facial expression. "I'm going by myself."

"Buffy." Spike's jaw clenched. "You need someone to watch your back. Someone to help you with this."

"You've done enough," Buffy snapped as she swung open to the door and slammed it shut. Spike sighed as he turned to face and confused and worried Scooby gang. 

"What was that about?" Anya asked, trying to unsuccessfully hide her curiosity.

Spike lazily stepped off the landing and plopped into the chair. "That stupid git of a sister of yours is too goddamn stubborn for her own good," he informed Dawn. Dawn nodded seriously. 

"I know," she whispered. "You can't ever get her to change her mind. When she thinks there's something she has to do, she does it. Like when Glory---" Dawn's eyes filled with tears. 

Spike patted her hand before she could continue. "Don't worry Nibblet. She's not gonna get herself into trouble, not on my watch. We'll figure something out." Dawn smiled up at him, relieved slightly. 

Xander frowned. "Something as in what? Because so far, our attempts at something have turned out to be stinking dung heaps of nothing."

Spike turned to Xander, prepared to utter a searing insult when a small, black gadget sitting on the shelf caught his glance. He stopped and got up to look at it.

"What is this?" He asked Anya as he went over to inspect the apparently ancient contraption. 

"That?" Anya asked, glancing over his shoulder. "Oh I think that's the concentric amulet of the Sumerian god, Bublosoth. It just kind of came in a shipment last week from London." Spike turned the instrument back and forth in his hand, his brow furrowing up a storm. He pursed his lips as he lost himself in his thoughts.

"Tara," he said, as soon as he had refocused his attention back onto the Scoobies. "Have you ever heard the witch Kalik'shia?"

Tara looked puzzled. "No, I've never----" She stopped. "Wait. I've heard of that amulet before. And something about it involving a world-famous witch." She rushed up the stairs to where Anya and Giles had kept the important and darkest books on magic. Running back down, she clutched a huge, musty book. "K-Kalik's-shia." She looked up. "I found her." She rushedly swept most of the items on the table aside as she set the huge book down. Spike came to inspect the yellowed pages. He put a slender, white finger to the page and scanned down the lines.

"I can't bloody believe that after all this time I didn't even think of . . ." Spike muttered, skimming the ancient texts. Xander and rest looked at each other, thoroughly confused. Finally Spike's eyes gleamed with recognition. "Ahh. Here." He began to read aloud. "Kalik'shia. Highly powerful, yet menacing sorceress known to cast extremely dangerous and dire spells of annihilative consequence. Feared to for her treacherous destruction, as well as her seeming invulnerability to attack of any kind, a group of cloistered Jesuits cast a spell on Kalik'shia, making her----" he paused as he turned to gaze at the rest of the group, "Fully mortal."

Everyone was silent for a few seconds. Tara, in her optimistic rush was the first to break silence. "What does this mean?" she demanded. "That we can turn Rack mortal? W-we can k-kill him?"

Spike rubbed the back of his neck uncertainly. "I dunno. I only remembered how back in the day, this mate o' mine was showing me this contraption," he juggled the amulet awhile in his hands. "And telling me about how it he jacked it from these monks way before m' time, after they had used this thing to turn this incredibly bitchy doll into a human and killed her. I mean, I don't know if it can work, I don't know if Rack and this Kallie bit have the same kind of power, but. . ."

"So that's it?" Xander asked, his face as well as Tara's beginning to brighten. "We use _that_ to turn Rack mortal and then we can kill him?"

Spike turned back to the book. He held a hand up in hesitation. "Wait a bit, Scoobs. It says here that there's more involved in the ritual." Anya came over to inspect the book as well.

"Well we have most of that stuff here," she pointed out, motioning to the neatly stocked shelves. "What's the big deal?"

"The monks then needed the blood of one who carried the darkness of night, that which to mirror the witch's own.," Spike continued to read. "However, the humanity of a soul was necessary to fulfil the needs of the ritual to make the Dreaded human . . ." he looked up thoughtfully.

"Meaning what?" Xander asked. "Seriously, they need cliff notes for this ancient lingo magicky books."

Spike slammed the book shut. "It's pretty straight forward actually, Harris. 'Blood of one who carries the darkness of night'? 'Humanity of a soul'? I think the fates are doin' a bit of channeling to our ever-favorite Anne Rice wannabe."

Xander's lips pursed as his face went grim. "Angel," was all he said.

"Bingo. Seems like this pleasant little spell requires a little soul-fortified blood from me beloved grand-sire." Spike didn't bother to hide the mordant bitterness in his voice.

Xander groaned. "Why is it that these spells always require such stupid ingredients. I mean, eye of newt isn't funky enough for ya?"

Tara's spirits were obviously raised as this new prospect. "What does it matter? This is it. This will save Willow." Her hands were shaking and she couldn't restrain the fierce smile that spread on her face.

Spike couldn't help but feel his insides and his borrowed blood chill so that every vein in his body nearly felt like it was painfully turning to icicles. He hated Angel with all his being, jealously thinking of all the pain he caused with Drusilla, and then with Buffy by just being there in spirit, a cloud of past memories and confusion that she seemed to cling to. And he wanted more than anything to scream at everyone not to do this bleedin ritual, not if it meant bringing back that bloody poofter. But he knew what Buffy was going through with Willow, how desperately she feared for her. And now Tara, a gleam of pure brightness washing over her, well, Spike couldn't very well ignore it. Although he told himself a thousand times that he didn't care rot about any of the Scoobies, somewhere in his empty, lifeless chest, he felt a pang of awareness, something that told him that this was the right thing to do. Bloody freakin' hell. Big Bad Spike had developed a conscience. 

"I'll call Angel then," he asserted quietly, shocking all. 

"Angel? Angel as in you're whole 'much-hated sire Angel'?" Xander looked at him incredulously.

"Well what else can we do?' Spike asked tiredly, throwing up his hands in frustration. "And no one tell Buffy about this, y'hear?" he growled, fiercely glaring at everyone in sight. No one responded, only nodding their heads in agreement, so he went to the back training room to make the call.

Spike gripped the phone so tightly that his usually white skin seemed transparent over his strained knuckles. "Hey." His jaw clenched and he could almost feel his game face arise just at the tone of restrained hatred in his voice. "Yeah, it's me. I need to ask you for a favor . . ."

Buffy sighed as she paced back and forth in front of Spike's crypt. She was done with patrolling, but she remained in the graveyard, debating whether or not to go in. She certainly felt guilty for the way she acted at the Magic Box, but at the same time she felt so angry. Angry at Xander, all of the Scoobies, for looking at her with same old look of pressuring expectation as if to say, "Well what are you waiting for, Buffy? Go fix this." Like always, world goes haywire, Apocalypse comes to town on a visit, it all gets dumped into Buffy's lap. Didn't they understand that it had only been a few months since she had desperately clawed her way back into life? And a few months before that that she had to deal with the harsh reality of her mom's death? That after all that, she couldn't take a life, deal with the repercussions of death once more? It wasn't like taking a demon life. This was a human. It would cross Buffy from the world of Slayer to Murderer. After all this time, she wasn't prepared to deal with death that closely after she had tried so hard to shake it off.

But at the same time, she understood why it could have been the right thing to do. This was for Willow. And there was no other person for the job of protecting her, as well as the rest of the town. So once again, she felt the same mix of resentment as well as devotion for her duty as a Slayer that she had felt for the last couple of years. 

But now there was something in her life that made her reevaluate that duty. Damn Spike with his goddamn charm and his goddamn allure. If it wasn't for him, this whole thing with Willow wouldn't have happened in the first place. She had never neglected her duty as Slayer as she did now. Granted, she was busy dealing with her death, playing Mom for Dawn, paying the bills and worrying about the groceries. But she had to admit, Spike certainly took up a lot of her time. Riley had been so easy to push out of the way when duty called, and Angel was never there for the majority of the time anyway, but Spike . . . Buffy couldn't get rid of him, and she was unsure of whether she wanted to. But she knew that what should be. If she wasn't so busy absorbed in her own thoughts of Spike, she would have caught Willow with her whole magick thing before any damage was done. She could have been more supportive, more helpful, more understanding so that Willow would have never even felt the need to go to Rack in the first place. Buffy reflected over all of this as she twirled a stake in her hand thoughtfully. Yes, she had arrived at a decision. She had to do what she had to do. 

Thrusting open the door with the standard clang and bash, she stood in the dark mustiness of Spike's crypt. She stood in the same spot for awhile, conflicted on whether to go downstairs, where she knew he probably was since the T.V. wasn't on upstairs or to leave while she still had a chance. Jutting out her chin and donning an air of resolution, she marched downstairs.

The air faded considerably when she found him sleeping, his slicked hair mussed and buried among linen sheets. This always got her, seeing him sleeping like this. He usually slept with his nose buried in the pillows, his arms on either side of his head, like a boy. She often lay awake beside him just to marvel on how different and beautiful he looked while he slept. She knew he did the same when she was asleep and that made her firm countenance slip further. Trying to avoid staring at his lean, sinewy, uncovered back for much longer, she roughly nudged him awake.

"Huh? What?" Spike groggily said, springing awake. He looked up. "Buffy?"

Buffy immediately put her resolute face back on. "Hey. She tried to make it sound as unfeeling as possible.

"Hey," he answered, slightly confused and disoriented as he sat up in bed. "What can I do for you luv?" More awake, his smirk fell in place. "Although I recall hearing that I've done enough."

Buffy's lip curled over sulkily, becoming one of her staple expressions, just like Spike's famous smirk. "Oh. I . . . I just wanted to . . ." She started to mumble under her breath. "Apologize for that."

Spike leaned exaggeratedly near to Buffy. "What's that? Didn't catch it."

"I said I'm sorry," Buffy said loudly. " I might have been . . . a little . . . stressed, and hence, unfair. So I'm apologizing. There you happy? I've said it _three_ times now."

Spike grinned. "Very happy." He wanted to impulsively grab her into his arms at that moment but she stepped back further, as if guessing his intentions. He frowned, seeing her expression of firmness and seriousness. Seeing his reaction of hurt and confusion, Buffy wavered. She sighed and approached him once again.

"Can I?" she asked grumpily, indicating the bed. Trying to hide his satisfaction, he scooted in and held up the blanket so she could snuggle into the warm sheets and cradle into his cool hold. For a few moments they sat in silence, her enjoying the feel of his arms around her, him enjoying the scent of her hair and the feel of her small, soft body against his compact one. "Spike?" Buffy asked, breaking the silence abruptly.

"Hmm?" Spike didn't move or change his expression, but continued to twine his fingers into her golden hair.

"If I asked you do something for me, would you do it?"

"Always, pet."

"If I asked you to stay away from me, would you?" She spoke slowly and deliberately. Spike stiffened slightly, but Buffy couldn't feel it. He continued to sit, not facing her and playing with her hair.

"Why? He asked, trying not to let his beginning feelings of anger and hurt fade into his voice although he immediately thought, _Not again!_

Buffy sighed and turned to face him. "Because . . . because of Willow. I think that I should be more focused on Willow and this Rack thing."

Spike pursed his lips. "So you don't want to see me because you're too busy taking care of Willow?"

"It's not just that. It's---it's just that if I wasn't so . . . distracted, this whole thing with Willow would have never happened."

Spike remained emotionless. "So that's my new name, eh? Distraction?"

Buffy ducked her head tiredly. "No, I don't mean it like that. I just mean that . . . if I wasn't so . . . involved in other . . . things, I could have paid more attention to Willow, made sure this whole thing with Rack didn't happen."

Spike had let go of her. He snorted frustratededly. "Not again, Buffy. How many times are you gonna blame yourself for this?"

"Well why shouldn't I?" Buffy asked, bristled. "I mean, she was living under my roof. I just too self-absorbed to notice what was going on."

Spike reached over to get a cigarette and light it. "Red is a big girl. She made her own decision to go down there, you can't play Mummy Buffy 24 hours a day."

"I could have done something!" 

Spike took the cigarette out of him mouth and looked her seriously in the eyes. "Buffy, Willow was already waist deep in the black arts before you came back. Bringing you home wasn't the lightest of spells and for her to do that, she had already made the decision that she was gonna muss up the fates a bit. There was no stopping her."

Buffy could see by his expression that it was true. She frowned slightly, then sighed. "It's not only that," she pointed out. "I've been neglecting my slayer duties too."

"So cause you're Slayer, you don't get to have a private life?" Spike cautiously avoided the words 'love life', knowing that she wasn't quite ready for that. 

"Well, no, I mean, yes! But . . ."

Spike sighed. "Fine Slayer. If you want me to stay away from you, just say so." By this time, she was already back in his arms, her back against his chest.

"I want you to stay away from me." 

Spike smiled slightly at the inconsistency of her words with her actions. "Really?" he asked, restraining the tone of sarcasm.

"Yes."

"Really?"

"Y-yes."

He chuckled and turned to face her. "Look, pet, I know all your games. If you say 'no' you usually run willy-nilly away from me to show you mean it. So lemme ask again. Do you want me to stay away from you?"

Her lips curled as her defenses weakened, then crumbled. "No," she admitted. "Although I _want_ to want you to stay away."

He smiled. "Don't we all." Sighing, she settled back into his arms.

"Well Operation Stay-Away-From-Bloodsucking-Fiend blew up in my face in no time flat," Buffy mumbled grumpily. 

"Can't get enough me, can you luv?"

"Spike?" She had already strayed from his egoistic victory dances he was doing for having won this battle. 

"Yeah?"

"What about Willow?"

He sighed, and gathered her into his arms tighter. "We'll figure something out. I promise."

And hearing him say it made Buffy believe it was true. Besides, when had he ever broken a promise to her? There was also a tone in his voice that totally affirmed that not only was he being honest, but that it would happen. She couldn't but help smile slightly, then wrinkle her nose as she yawned. Being near Spike always made Buffy feel safe, and consequently, sleepy.

"Sleep," he urged her, still holding her tight. She nodded and felt her lids grow heavy and waver as they finally closed. As she finally feel into sleep, a small catch of air between her lips, blowing onto his chest, Spike stared down at her and lost himself in thought. To watch her like this made for his happiest moments and his most reflective as well. The way her thick lashes rested upon the slight curve of her cheek allowed Spike to feel the world grow still and quiet. As he noted the slight rise and fall of her chest, he thought of the solution he promised her. For the one of the first times in his unexistence, he was truly scared. Scared that this would change everything between them, that having _him _back would push Spike out where he started. And to do without _this_, the way a slight crinkle formed between her eyes to show she was dreaming, or the slight smile that still settled on her still lips, he was terrified that it would all go away with this painful, but necessary solution. 


	15. Pasts Return

Chapter 15: Pasts Return

The black-tinted car made it's way up Revello Drive slowly, almost cautiously. The driver gradually rolled down the window and peered into the safety of the night sky. He glanced apprehensively at a small house, guarded by a few large oak and palm trees. The light was on inside, casting a warm, familiar glow to the driver, although he had not gazed upon it for more than three years. The sight of it gave a slight twinging ache in his empty chest as he looked back to the person reclining next to him in the car. He heaved an unneeded intake of air as he glanced uneasily at the woman with the baby in her lap.

"It'll be okay Angel," she said, trying to meet his troubled eyes with her comforting ones.

He looked back up at her as twitched anxiously. "What are you talking about, I'm not nervous," he said unconvincingly.

"Which is why you're convulsively twitching that way?" Cordy pointed out. "I didn't think vampires needed to do that."

Angel sighed. "So I am nervous. So what? I did see her only a couple months ago."

"Yes and that added a much wanted boost of broodiness to your usual regime of brooding." Cordy rocked Conner in her arms softly. She moved so that one of her hands rested on one of his cold ones. "It _will_ be okay Angel," she said, her voice softer. "And if you need backup, I'm here."

Angel smiled slightly at Cordy's encouragement. He gazed at her, a little amazed at how she evolved from such a vapid, shallow cheerleader to a compassionate, caring woman who held his son so tenderly. The gaze lasted a little longer than it had to, and unconsciously, Cordy hadn't removed her hand while Angel hadn't stopped her from doing so. She was glad that he looked slightly more comfortable, she thought, he was going to need all the comfort he could get if he was going to see Buffy again. Still, why was he looking at her like that? Uncomfortably, Cordy removed her hand from his and looked down towards Conner before looking up again. "We should go in," she whispered.

Angel nodded in agreement. "Yeah, we should." Neither one of them moved. 

"O-kay, so one of us should get out of the car, and I'm suggesting that it's the person who doesn't have a baby in its arms so that he can open the door for the one who does," Cordy pointed out, which set Angel rushing to open the door for her gallantly.

As soon as they were out of the car, both of them gazed up at the house from the sidewalk. "Do you think it's changed that much since she d-died?" Angel asked wistfully.

"Dunno," Cordy murmured, shaking her head. "God, I haven't been here since high school. What a trip that was. I can't even remember what life was like back then."

"So you can't remember what it was like to be a merciless bully who preyed on the small and helpless?" Angel chuckled. "Or are you trying to repress that from your memory?"

Cordy gaped at him playfully. "Look who's talking, Mr. Past-Life-Spent-_Eating_-People," she shot back. Angel smiled but both their smiles faded as they turned back to the house. Cordy shrugged. "Well I guess this is it." She motioned to the house. Angel stood stock-still. She sighed, grabbing his hand and dragging him up to the front steps. He grudgingly followed her and they both stood in front of the house silently. Cordy smiled at him once more reassuringly and squeezed his hand before letting it drop to her side. Angel looked to her once more and sighed sharply before rapping on the door. Both held their breath.

"Hey Angel!" Xander threw open the door with a thud and flew unto Angel, giving him a hug and gripping him tight. Angel looked confused as he struggled to escape from Xander's life-squeezing hold. Cordy looked on with amused confusion.

"Hey, Xan-Xander," Angel said, a little breathlessly.

"Um, okay, I might have compensated a little too much for my apparent discomfort in seeing you. See, I practiced that. Cordelia!" Xander opened his arms to administer another monstrous hug. 

"Um, that's okay Xander," Cordy said, backing away. "See I have a living child to be concerned for. I don't really want him not be spontaneously compressed."

"Oh," Xander's eyes glazed in startled recognition. "Who's tha---"

"Is Buffy here?" Angel cut in sharply, before Xander could finish his question. Xander tore his curious eyes from Connor back to Angel.

"Oh, um, nope, she's out."

"Out?' Angel frowned. "That's weird, I thought she would know we'd be here."

"Actually," Xander said, thinking of Spike's warning not to tell Buffy, prepared to tell Angel, but decided not to, "Um, we didn't know we were coming today," he said, trying to salvage his lost train of thought. Which was true. Spike had told them that Angel would be here tomorrow. 

"Oh that," Angel said. "Yeah, we decided to leave early. We would have left later, but we couldn't get the rental car for tomorrow, only today."

"What are you doing here, Xander?" Cordy asked tersely. "Does _everyone_ Buffy know live here now?" 

Xander smirked at Cordy's familiar tone of blunt rudeness. "Oh, I'm just staying here waiting for the rest of the gang to come back. _I _have my own high rise apartment, thank you. Plus I'm here waiting for my _fiancée_, Anya, to get off work at the place she _owns,_ the Magic Box." He smiled smugly at Cordy who looked slightly impressed.

"Wow, Xander, I guess congratulations are in order," Cordy said. "I hope you and your vengeance demon live a happy life inflicting pain and revenge on unsuspecting males, that is, until she comes after you." Xander's smile faded. It was just like high school, them zinging back and forth, with somehow Xander getting shot down in the end. Cordy laughed apologetically as she said, "Relax Xander, I'm kidding. I really do hope you and Anya are happy together. I like Anya. At least she'll keep you in line." Angel laughed and Xander looked increasingly uncomfortable. Cordy turned back to Connor who was spitting up slightly. "Oh look Angel, he's got gas or something," Cordy pointed out. 

"Here, let me take him, Cordy," Angel said, gingerly lifting Conner from Cordy's arms. Xander raised his eyebrows slightly at the intimate way Angel said 'Cordy' and at the expressly tender way he looked down at the child as well as Cordy, who neared him with a smile.

"Cordy, eh? What's this, you guys already have pet names for each other? What do you call him, Teethy?" Xander waved a finger at the air between them.

Cordy made a face. "Everyone calls me Cordy now, Xander. It's a lot less pretentious than Cordelia."

"Yes, because I remember you as being the model of humility in high school," Xander mused sarcastically. He was surprised at the way Angel glared at him.

"Watch it Xander," he snapped, lurching forward slightly. At that same moment, Conner spit all over the front of Angel's front jacket. "Great," he muttered, trying to wipe away the vomit. He looked over towards Cordy. "Take him, will you? I'm going to the kitchen to get washed up." Cordy accepted him as Angel walked away. 

As soon as Angel was gone, Xander looked expectantly towards Conner, itching visibly for an explanation. Cordy saw the look in his face and sighed. "Don't ask," was all she said.

"Ask what? Which lowlife impregnated you and left you to fend for yourself?"

"Xander!" Cordy stared at him incredulously. "Conner isn't mine!"

"So what? You're playing babysitter and taking the kid on a nice multi-hour long drive to Sunnydale?"

Cordy shifted uncomfortably. "He's . . ." Xander moved in for a closer listen. "He's . . . An—"

"Why is there blood in the fridge?!" Angel asked angrily as he stormed back into the foyer, holding up a jar of red liquid. 

"Oh that," Xander tried to laugh cautiously. "That's Spike's."

"Spike?!" Angel's jaw clenched at the name of his childe. "What _his_ stuff doing here?!"

"Hey relax man, I don't like it any more than I do," Xander said, placing a brotherly hand on Angel's back. "It's just that the guy helps out a lot with the patrolling and taking care of Dawn and all, so he's here a lot." Angel, still dissatisfied and angry, accepted the explanation and went back to the kitchen. Curious, Cordy moved near to Xander.

"Spike? Last time I heard, he totally wanted to jump Buffy's bones. What's his stuff really doing here? Are _they_ . . . ?" She let the last word linger.

Xander scoffed at the question, waving his hand flippantly. "Pffft, whatever. Like Buffy would appease his sick, deluded dreams. Besides," he edged even closer to Cordy. "I think Buffy's gay."

Cordy's eyes widened. "Gay? Buffy?" Her expression was one of pure shock that soon faded into surprised recognition. "Wow. Things _have _changed around Sunnydale." Angel returned, having taken off his jacket. He still looked slightly angry, but a smile from Cordy calmed him a bit.

"So where's Buffy, do you know?" Angel asked, wiping away some of Conner's remnants of lunch off of his shirt. Xander shrugged. 

"Um, patrolling I think . . ." His voice faded in alacrity when he saw Angel's stoic face.

"Patrolling?" he asked with slight anger edged in his voice. "With Spike?" 

Xander realized his mistake and quickly tried to redeem himself. "Dude relax, they're just patrolling . . . restricting their activities to usual . . . death, carnage and slaying. What else would they be doing?"

"_Spike_!"

"Good luv?"

"Uh . . . huh . . . S-Spike! Ohhh my God, Spppike!"

"You like that? You want more?"

"Yes . . . Oh God Spike, more, more!"

Spike grinned devilishly as held the ice cream cone in front of Buffy to lick savagely. He kept trying to veer it tauntingly in front of Buffy's face, back and forth, and like a willing puppy, her half-open mouth and glazed eyes followed the sprinkled mound of ice cream. Eventually, tired of his game, Buffy shoved him off and grabbed the cone dancing happily in victory.

"Mine, mine, mine!" she sang, waving the cone emphatically.

Spike smiled broadly. "I'm not the one who refused to even touch the ice cream . . . . it being such a 'demonically evil fat-grabbing tool of weight gain'." He was quoting Buffy's comments from a few moments ago when they passed a ice cream stand, where Buffy wrinkled her nose and Spike immediately decided to purchase a cone of her favorite flavor to seductively lick right in front of her face. He loved the way Buffy's breathing had grown quite ragged and shallow, seeing his pink tongue sensuously sweep across the cold sweetness slowly, his eyes rolling back as he grunted with exaggerated pleasure. "Want a lick?" he had asked in deeply sexy growl, holding the cone in front of her temptingly.

"I s-said I was o-on a d-diet," stammered Buffy, her eyes never leaving the cone, melting into a soft pool of chocolate. "I-ice c-cream, b-bad."

"Yeah, well sometimes the things that are bad for you are the things that taste the best," Spike continued to growl, his eyes sparkling with mysterious allure and his brow raised suggestively. It didn't take long after that for Buffy to sweep Spike away from the cone and devour it completely. She sighed with delight after finishing the cone, and Spike, highly amused at her display, snaked a free arm around her. 

"So did you have fun?" he asked as they walked along the lighted street of shops and stores, many of the closed and out of business after the recent destruction that had ensued. It was unusual that Spike and Buffy should be walking leisurely at a time like this, but somehow they had seem to completely ignore the havoc around them as they smiled into each other's eyes.

"You mean the poetry slam?" Buffy asked, her nose wrinkling. "I dunno. You hear 'slam' and you think bodies flailing, major action . . . but all they did was stand around talking about how their hearts were like the sea and all that. It was more like a poetry . . . nudge."

Spike grinned. "That's only cause you got no culture Slayer. Poetry like that is for people who understand the true nature of beauty."

"Hey!" Buffy replied, incensed. "I got culture up the wazoo! What about the Mobil Masterpiece adaptation of that British novel thing we watched on T.V.?" She pointed out. "Which was totally boring, by the way," she couldn't help adding under her breath.

Spike continued to chuckle, drawing her closer to him. "Face it luv, You got as much culture as a guest off a' _Springer_."

Buffy, frowning madly, pushed him off her roughly, throwing him to the side while she gripped his hands to a store window and glared at him intensely. Spike smirked at her, amused and immediately pushed her head to his, capturing her lips and tongue. Buffy willingly accepted his gesture, her hands leaving his wrists to curl around his neck. He immediately wove his pale hands through her hair and grabbed fast her to her hips to nudge them against his own, smiling as he heard the small catch in her throat.

"Umm, guys, I think there are laws against that kind of public groping," they heard a blasé, sardonic, young voice say. Reluctantly separating from each other, they turned to face Dawn, with a slight smile playing across her lips as she held her hands up to her waist. Tara stood behind her, repressing a giggle.

"Dawn!" Buffy said, smoothing her hair and clothes. "What are you doing here?"

"We're just coming back from the hospital," Tara supplied. "We were visiting Willow."

"Tara!" Buffy said, alarmed. "What are you doing here,. You shouldn't be out! With all the cops around and----"

"Don't worry, Buffy, I cast a spell to hide my Wiccan identity. Kind of like that spell I cast on you guys, just not so, you know . . . dangerously stupid."

Buffy breathed a sigh of relief, but promptly stiffened again. "What about Willow, how is she?"

Tara smiled tiredly. "She's alright. She's still unconscious, but the doctors have got her stable now." 

Buffy returned with a small smile of her own. "That's a relief," she said, gripping Spike's hand as they began to walk home.

The foursome made their way home in good spirits, laughing over Buffy and Spike's accounts of the poetry slam, with Spike declaring how highly enjoyable it was and Buffy's frowns of disagreement. Everyone found it highly funny that Spike of all people found sitting around, listening to others drone on and on about flowers and love 'highly enjoyable'. It was so easy to forget he had such an inclination towards poetry. 

"Whose car is that?" Buffy asked puzzledly, referring to black car in front of the house. 

Spike immediately felt his stomach drop. He knew Angel's blacked-out car when he saw it. Why had that bloody bastard decide to show up a day early without letting anyone know, he thought angrily. If only he knew, he could have tried to find a way for Buffy to avoid him, like taking her out all day or something. But now, them meeting couldn't be avoided. Although somewhere deep in his consciousness, Spike knew that this was probably the better way. 

Buffy had let go of Spike's hand and began to walk down the pathway to her house. She strained her eyes to the see the dark, shadowy figure that stepped out of the house and was being framed by the doorway. She stopped and stiffened. "Angel," she breathed.


	16. Strange Encounters with Old Friends

Chapter 16: Strange Encounters with Old Friends

Angel cautiously neared her, both of them slowly caught in a muddy haze as they walked towards each other before awkwardly stopping, inches away from each other. Buffy stopped and paused, feeling her heart grow heavy with every step, and noticing how in her chest, an acute pain spread that only occurred in Angel's presence. He stood in front of her, looming and nervous, and for a moment, they just stared at one another. Spike stood on the sidewalk, inwardly feeling a mixture of coldness and bubbling rage. Dawn and Tara glanced over at his emotionless face nervously.

"Buffy," Angel replied, his voice lighter than Buffy remembered. They continued to stand like that for moments, much to the suspense of all observers around them. Finally, Buffy jumped towards him and gripped him into a tight hug that, if he had not been a vampire, would have crushed every bone in his body. Angel's arms slowly enveloped her as well. He could smell something on unusual in her hair, on her clothes, a mixture of smoke and masculine musk. He tried to ignore it.

Spike clenched his teeth. Angel saw him over Buffy's shoulder but gave him no sign of recognition. "Angel," Buffy whispered, clinging to his chest. She loosened her grip as she stepped away from him. It seemed strange that after that intimate moment, they still weren't entirely able to meet each other's eyes. "H-How are you?" Buffy's voice sounded strained, wavering.

Angel's voice sounded equally uneasy. "I-I'm good, Buffy." He turned around to gaze at the rising clouds of smoke and broken buildings off into the distance. "Wish I could say the same for old Sunnydale."

Buffy smiled awkwardly. "Destruction, endless damage, all go hand in hand with the Hellmouth." She stopped smiling. "What are you doing here anyway? A-are you okay?"

Angel looked at her quizzically. "Wha-I thought you knew Buffy. I'm here for the ritual."

It was Buffy's turn to frown confusedly. "Ritual? What ritual?" 

Angel furrowed his brows. "The one for Willow? The one to stop this evil warlock guy?"

Buffy's eyes widened in recognition. "Rack. But how did you know about that?"

Angel scratched his head. "Well you guys called me, said that Willow was in deep trouble and that there was this warlock causing chaos in Sunnydale and that you would need my help for a ritual to stop him."

Buffy continued to stare at him confusedly. She turned to Tara. "What's going on? You guys found a ritual to stop Rack and you didn't tell me? You called _Angel_ and you didn't tell me?!" her voice was growing with disbelieving anger. Tara walked up to her nervously. 

"Well we were going to tell you," Tara paused and quickly glanced over at Spike who was darkly puffing on a cigarette. "But we . . . we didn't even know that Angel was coming today." She looked up at Angel. "Hi, I'm Tara," she said shyly, offering a hand. Angel smiled briefly and shook it.

Buffy was looking at a grave Spike, who leaned against a tree in his usual fashion. Was he in on this too? She wondered. 

"Why don't we go inside," Angel said to break the ominous silence and inauspicious discomfort. He noticed the look Buffy gave Spike and was worried. He didn't make a reaction to it however, only motioned towards the door where Xander and Anya stood waiting. Tara and Dawn followed him as he went into the house, but Buffy remained behind, staring a little wistfully at a motionless Spike. 

"Do you want to come . . .' Buffy's voice faded as she motioned towards the house. Spike's face met hers and she could find detect expression of tense anger and more unusually, fear. He pursed his lips and flicked his cigarette.

"Naw, I don't really think I'm down for swapping stories for Peaches and the old gang tonight. I think I'll head home and catch _Dawson's_."

Buffy's eyes burned into him worriedly and Spike felt his unbeating heart thaw just a bit. But he was determined as he gave her a reassuring smile and said, "Don't worry Slayer, I'll see you tomorrow." He then drifted back into the night, his duster sweeping behind him morosely. Buffy paused a bit, trying to find his shadow before he disappeared completely into the darkness, her heart aching. She then sighed and walked back into the house.


	17. Things Have Changed

Chapter 17: Things Have Changed

"So then the Pyleans made me their queen and worshipped me, which made for quite the ego-booster. Of course, we found that they weren't totally cool, them imprisoning, not to mention torturing Fred and all. But hey, at least they had good taste in their royalty huh?" Cordy flashed a bright smile as Xander shook his head in disbelief while Anya clutched nervously to his arm. 

"Wow, I told you that out of all the senior superlatives, the one called "Most Likely to Be a Hell Queen" belonged to you, Cordelia," Xander was saying, a hint of sarcasm draining into his voice. Expecting Cordy to hit him back with a sardonic witticism, she just returned his snide comment with a slight smile.

"Oh how I've missed you Xander," she said drolly.

"Right back at ya, Cord," Xander said with a wink.

"See, I am not intimidated by that slight exchange," Anya said brightly, waving her hands. "Although you were once the supreme ruler of a far off dimension, I am the one who Xander has chosen as his procreational playmate, and therefore I choose to ignore what might be perceived as sexually-charged flirting between two formerly involved people." Anya smiled proudly as Cordy stared astounded.

"As if dating me wasn't enough for you Xan, this one sets a precedent," Cordy remarked, dazed and shaking her head. Anya beamed, taking that as a compliment.

Buffy walked in rather somberly, looking over her shoulder out the door. Angel, sitting on the couch, noticed it and gingerly rubbed his hands back and forth in discomfort. She turned and was astonished to be greeted by a warm Cordy. 

"Cordelia!" she exclaimed as the ex-cheerleader caught her in a hug. "What are you doing here?"

"Oh I'm just here to help Angel," she said. Buffy frowned slightly, and turned to look at a twitching Angel. 

"So basically everyone and their _mother_ knew about this ritual and I didn't," she mumbled. She put her hands to her hips. "Why is that exactly?"

"We weren't exactly sure if we could have the proper ingredients and materials for the ritual," Tara tried to explain weakly, lugging a book up from the table. "You see, it's an incredibly difficult spell that might have dangerous consequences if we aren't extremely careful."

Buffy sank into the couch, next to Angel, them both gingerly scooting away from each other. "What exactly does this ritual do?" she asked, varying her timid glance from him to the Scoobies.

"It makes a warlock or a witch like Rack fully mortal," Tara explained as she leafed through the book and Buffy's eyes widened. 

"Mortal? As in totally killable? Hack his internal organs into a million tiny pieces killable?"

"Yup," Xander said with his arm around Anya. "Isn't it the pick-me-up of the year?"

Buffy got up and paced. "I can't believe this! This is great! We're finally out of the woods!"

"It's not as easy as all that Buffy," Angel said quietly from the couch. "Any ritual calling for my blo . . . the blood of a vampire with a soul as the high probability of running amuck."

Buffy looked thoughtfully at him. "So that's why you're here." She paused once more to peer into his dark, brooding eyes. She turned to Tara. "How'd you guys dig up this ritual?" 

Before Tara could respond, Anya interrupted her. "Spike found the ritual, something out of his bawdy tales of yore. Quite a piece of luck actually, since he remembered the ritual and right at the same time we got the concentric amulet in."

Buffy was shocked. "_Spike_ found this ritual?" she squeaked. 

'He was the one who called us Buffy," Cordy added. "It was hard to figure out it was him, he almost sounded like Giles with laryngitis on the phone."

"_Spike _called you guys?" Buffy continued to question, stupefied. 

Angel could detect a strange tone in Buffy's voice. "Yeah, he said it was incredibly important."

"It was so weird, I mean, last time I saw him he was all 'death-rocks-long-live-carnal-violence," Cordy reflected. Buffy stood stock-still, trying to comprehend it all.

Spike had found the ritual. Why hadn't he told her? Was he trying to keep her away from Angel? She reflected on this angrily. But at the same time, she would have never even have thought that Spike could call Angel for something like this. He would have chewn off his right arm rather than see his grand-sire again. But he had done it. He had done it for Willow. He had done it for her.

"Buffy," Angel said softly, trying to draw her out of her reflective trance. 

"Huh?" Buffy snapped to attention. "Oh." She strode back to the middle of the room and placed her hands on hips. "So tell me more about this ritual."

A response was loudly cut off by the sound of wailing upstairs. "Oh that's Conner!" Cordy exclaimed, running upstairs to get him.

"Who's Conner?" Buffy asked, perplexed. Xander was about to rushedly answer; his eyes goggled with excitement. Angel interrupted him.

"H-He's Wesley's kid," Angel said, voice strained. 

Buffy frowned. "Wesley? Bookish, watcher Wesley actually got a girl to impregnate?"

Xander, shocked, opened him mouth wide to add something, but a fierce look from Angel silenced him.

"Look who it is," Cordy cooed as she brought down a swaddled, soft bundle. Angel's eyes lit up immediately. 

Buffy wavered a bit, peeking over to see Conner's full, pudgy face. "Oh my gosh, he's so beautiful," she exclaimed, standing over Conner.

"Isn't he?" Cordy's face shone with love, and something burned in Angel when he saw that. "Did Angel tell you about---"

"About how Conner, this lovable infant here is _Wesley's_ son?" Xander brusquely interrupted, prompting more stormy glances from Angel.

"Wesley's?!" Cordy looked with wide eyes to Angel who gave her a solemn look that sobered her. She understood. "Oh right, Wesley. Yeah, um, this is Conner, _Wesley's_ son."

Buffy was still confused. "Who's the mother?"

"Umm, um, Fred!" Cordy said in a desperate attempt to protect Angel. 

"Fred?" Anya wrinkled her nose. "Isn't that the girl you like, _just_ saved from that alternate universe?"

"Oh, but she and Wesley hit it right off," Cordy tried to muster casually. "They met each other and POW. Going at it like bunnies they were."

"They were attacking each other like those bloodsucking mutants of death?!" Anya screeched, clinging to Xander, who merely patted her into tranquility. Cordy looked puzzled. Angel looked relieved. 

"Let me hold him," Buffy urged, lightly kissing Conner's smooth forehead. Smiling, Cordy sat down on the couch while Buffy sat next to her and gingerly took Conner from her arms. Angel watched from where he stood quietly, absorbing the scene with both pleasure and pain. Here were the two most important women in his life sitting side by side, leaning in together to fawn over his child. Things had certainly changed.

Angel sat on the back porch in the darkness, soaking in the cool air and stillness. Sighing he looked up to the star-spotted sky and gripped his hands tightly. He was so absorbed in his own thoughts that he had not heard Cordy's quiet, catlike steps on the porch. 

"Rough night huh?" she said quietly, sinking down to sit on the step next to him.

He shrugged. "I've had worse. I mean, sitting in a house with pizza and the Scoobs is rough, but not as harsh as battling the next Apocalypse."

"Coulda fooled me," Cordy remarked, swinging her hair aside. "That was some major tension right there. You would need like, a 20-pound ax to cut through the tension that was in that room."

Angel laughed. "Yeah, it was kind of awkward."

"Awkward?" Cordy looked at him sideways with astonishment. "In between the obvious vibes between you and Buffy, Xander's bubbling idiocy, Anya's amazing capacity for randomness and Conners' apparently new identity as Welsey's offspring, I'm thinking it made for a night quite unlike any night seen here in Sunnyhell. And that's saying a lot." Angel continued to laugh, feeling more at ease. He turned to smile earnestly at Cordy, which was reciprocated with her smiling back. 

"I just couldn't tell her the truth about Conner, not just yet. I feel like we should be alone, have time to talk it out," Angel quietly reflected.

"I understand."

They sat silently for awhile, just smiling at each other until they heard Buffy yell at Dawn for breaking a dish. Angel's grin faded as soon as he heard Buffy's voice.

"Still hard?" Cordy asked gently. 

Angel half-frowned. "I don't think 'easy' is a word that will ever describe my relationship with Buffy."

"Relationship?" Cordy's eyebrows raised as the word was said with caution.

Angel looked again at Cordy. He sighed. "Yeah, you're probably right. There's no relationship left between us." He straightened as he clasped his hands thoughtfully. "Well, that's not entirely true. I don't think that things will ever be over between me and Buffy,"-- he looked meaningfully into Cordy's eyes as he said it, "but I don't think that it will ever be anything more than that either."

Buffy watched Angel and Cordy on the steps from the kitchen window as she washed dishes. Part of her felt slightly pricked, as if someone was pinching her with a pin right in the middle of her heart. She didn't know why the way they sat---Angel and Cordy, reminded her of something. They looked so peaceful, so quiet and at ease with each other, not the agitated Angel Buffy had fidgeted around all evening. With Cordy he was grinning slightly, less tense, even less broody, more . . . himself. Then it hit her. They reminded her of Spike and herself.

Many times had Spike and Buffy sat perched on the back stoop, just gazing out into the night sky, not needing to say a word, but feeling comfort just in each other's presence. They often felt like the only two people in the world at those moments, and that was the only time when they truly made sense. 

Watching Angel and Cordy sit and whisper so intimately tugged painfully at Buffy's heartstrings, but more than that, it brought to her attention the perplexing situation of Spike. Why had he not told her about this ritual? What would she do with him now that Angel was in town? How would Angel affect things with Spike? What exactly were 'things' with Spike? Buffy sighed as she rinsed the last plate. "A possessed Wiccan is one thing," she muttered. "But being involved with both of the two scourges of Europe? Nice going Buff." 


	18. Working Together

Chapter 18: Working Together

Buffy stood in the chilly, piercing silence of the graveyard. She was standing all alone, hearing the wail of a small, indistinct voice of a child far off in the distance. As she tried to whirl around, her stake raised in hand to find the source of the cry, she suddenly saw Angel off in the distance, holding a wailing Conner. Angel looked up from Conner and smiled at her mysteriously saying," Why weren't you there Buffy? This . . ." he held up Conner, "this could have been yours. You lost your chance. Conner will never be yours." Buffy, perplexed, tried to move towards him, but found herself unable to move past an invisible barrier separating the two. She called to him, pitching her head up in confusion. 

"Angel! What do you mean?" she screamed, but he continued to smile, walking slowly backwards into the mist. Just that moment, Buffy could detect the bright sheen of Spike's hair, bobbing into sight from the darkness. He strode up to Buffy and cocked his head at her while he smirked. Buffy merely gaped at him, trying to ease an explanation out of him. "Spike, what's going on, what's happening?"

Spike laughed harshly. "Hate to agree with Ol' Poofter, pet, but you lost your chance for explanations . . ." Suddenly shifting into game face, he lunged towards her, sinking his fangs into Buffy's neck as she tried, but to no avail to scream out. Dropping her to the ground, he continued smirking, wiping her lingering blood off his face lazily. He walked over towards Angel and both gazed down at her with laughing pity, as she looked wide-eyed towards them with horror. "You're right Peaches," Spike was saying, laying a causal arm across Angel's shoulder. "The only way to kill her is to love her . . . and leave her."

Buffy sprang up in bed, panting roughly and covered with a cold sweat that left a damp outline in her sheets and on her skin. She ran one shaking hand through her hair as she tried to calm her breathing. Still overcome with gasps, she went downstairs to get a drink of water.

She walked into the lighted kitchen, surprised to see Tara up, a steaming mug in her hands, looking down at a thick book. "Tara, what are you doing up?" she yawned.

Tara looked up gently. "Buffy," she said, surprised, closing the large volume with a thud. "I'm up, just looking over this ritual." She cocked her head, concerned. "What's your excuse?"

Buffy sighed as she grabbed a bottle of water from the fridge. "Just thirsty," she lied, not wanting to think about her nightmare. "So what about this ritual anyway, I mean I know we talked about it tonight, but I think we were all a little more focused on the intense fun of blazing awkwardness."

Tara smiled sympathetically. "Was it that bad?"

Buffy plopped into a chair. "If by bad you mean gut-wrenchingly nerve-racking and conducive to nausea, then yeah." She sighed. "I just don't know how to feel about Angel being back. I mean, I know I just saw him, but . . . that was no picnic in itself you know?" her voice lingered and faded with apprehension. She looked up and gazed at Tara absently. "And Spike . . . I just don't understand why he wouldn't tell me about something as important as this" Her eyes hardened with anger. "I mean, how could he hide something like this from me?"

Tara shrugged. "I got the feeling he and Angel are not the best of buds."

Buffy nodded knowingly. "That's putting it lightly. I don't know how I'll handle both of them at the same time. After all of this is over, I'm expecting a mess of dust scattered all over my front lawn."

Tara laughed. "Yeah well, I hope they can stand each other enough not to ruin this ritual." Her face turned more serious. "Because from the looks of it, it seems like we're going to need as much cooperation between those two vamps as we can get."

Buffy frowned worriedly. "Well how serious is this whole thing going to get?"

"Well for one thing, it's assumed that Rack's powers have gotten stronger the more chaos ensues in Sunnydale. So it will be all that harder to find his coven. He'll use his powers to make in incredibly difficult for even a demon to sniff out. So we'll need both Spike and Angel on that one." Buffy groaned. "And the actual ritual itself will be dangerous enough as it is. Angel was right when he said that any ritual involving an ingredient as obscure as the blood of a vampire with a soul is bound to have risks a'plenty."

"Risks being?" Buffy's frown burrowed deeper. 

"Well . . . a person being currently possessed by Rack will have to be present . . ."

"Willow."

Tara ducked her head and replied softly, "Yeah. Willow will need to be there for spirit transference. And the ritual has to be done at a particular time, the moment Venus rises in the sky due East. If the ritual is done wrong or at the improper time . . ."

Buffy's eyebrows raised in concern. "Tara?"

Tara sighed deeply. "Willow could die, Buffy."

Buffy was silent at her words. "She could die now Tara, if we don't do something," she reasoned softly.

Tara got up from her chair and neared Buffy. "No---not only Willow . . . all the others Rack has touched. And Rack will remain unharmed. He'll be better than unharmed. He'll go from sorcerer to . . . a god."

Buffy gaped at her. "A god . . . a god like Glory?" Tara nodded seriously. 

"He'll after that will never be able to be touched and he'll have more than enough power to open the Hellmouth, causing Hell on earth."

"Not again," Buffy muttered. "I just went through this like, months ago." She sighed. "Tell me again why we're choosing this potentially Hadean kicker of a spell anyway?"

"It's the only one we could find for a situation like this," Tara explained, looking deeply into Buffy's eyes. "This is the biggest chance we have for saving Willow." Buffy recognized the look of pure fear and shaded optimism in Tara's eyes and nodded slowly.

"Okay," she sighed. "So what do we do?"

"Well this is something that we again need both Spike and Angel for. If Rack has any idea what we're doing, he'll try to call his legion to him to fight us. Spike and Angel will have to make sure this doesn't happen or it will complicate the spell immensely."

"And we _don't_ kill them?" Buffy asked critically. 

"No," Tara agreed. "We do have to keep them under control though, it will be hard to fight them, with Rack making them incredibly, super-human strong and all."

"So I can take care of it," Buffy said insistently, slightly anxious at the prospect of Spike and Angel working side by side. 

Tara shook her head with concern. "Buffy, you're going to need all the help you can get. These wiccans are going to be really powerfully possessed. Remember Willow?"

Buffy sighed. "Yeah, I guess you're right. So when does this ritual go down?"

Tara spoke grimly. "I've looked up the next sighting of Venus due East. It begins tomorrow night."

"Tomorrow night?" squeaked Buffy. "That doesn't give us much time."

"Exactly. Which is why we have to start preparing now."

Buffy looked lost in contemplation. "Tara," she suddenly piped up, "Will you make sure Dawn gets to school this morning?"

"Sure. Why, what are you going to do?

Buffy was tugging a long coat over her skimpy nightie and heading out the door. "I'm going to find Spike and Angel."

Spike growled fiercely as he sat up, basking in the midnight glow of radiation emitted from his idiot box. No matter how hard he tried, he couldn't concentrate on his favorite infomercial, spouting on and on about the virtues of the Thunderstick blender. His mind kept turning to the sight of Angel and Buffy, arms clasped around each other. Each time he remembered the sight, he felt as if a stake had been plunged into his chest, the wood splintering his unbeating heart. He had tried to drown his memories in a couple pints of Jack Daniels, but it just made him drunkenly antagonized. 

Finally, out of rage, he threw an empty bottle at the T.V., causing it to shatter and spark. "Bloody hell," he screamed. "Why the hell did that wanker have to come back after all?!!" He got up, swaying and pacing about his crypt. "Ohh," he slurred to himself. "It's cause you called him, you _wanker_." Groaning he collapsed onto his sarcophagus and sunk his head into his arms. "God, Spike, what 'ave you done? Ish is all your fault y'know. He's goona get back together with her, she'll get back together with him, and they'll have plenty o' namby pamby, beautiful buggers, and live in a 'ouse with a picket fence . . . She and he'll be smilin' like bloody shiny happy people, and you'll be dust in no flat, him and 'er standing over yer remains, cackling and laughin' their bloody love-addled heads off," he mumbled incoherently. 

Shaken, tears were rolling down his slack face as he stumbled up and grabbed an empty bottle of whisky, desperately trying to seek the dregs at the bottom of the bottle. Finding no relief, he screamed again, throwing it to the wall and stumbling again when he heard it shatter. "This is no good," he sighed, "If I need to get m' mind off of 'er, maybe a little killing is called for." Grabbing a stake and dagger, he crookedly walked out of his crypt, leaving the door swinging. He floundered across the graveyard, grabbing onto any tombstone for support. He tripped and was about to collapse completely if it wasn't a leather-sleeved arm to catch him and hold him steady. Spike bobbed his head up to gaze up at the helpful stranger and his glazed eyes met Angel's dark, fiery ones. Spike chuckled, forcefully pushing off Angel as he staggered back and collapsed on his butt onto the grass. 

"Spike? Drunk? I guess some things never change." Angel glared at Spike.

"Anshel," Spike garbled. "Just the bleedin' pooker Ish wanted to see." Spike struggled to get his shaky legs under him but he stumbled again, steadying himself by placing a hand on Angel's chest. "You n' me, Peaches, we're gonna duke it out, see?"

Angel laughed louder, more harshly. "Fight? Fight for what?"

Spike cocked his head. "Oh right, like you dun know."

Angel amusedly shook his head. "Poor desperate Spike. I guess this about Buffy huh? I heard you've been pining for her all these months." He pushed Spike off of him again, sending him flailing onto the ground, his duster billowing out behind him. Angel glowered over him. "You called me Buffy-whipped? Look at you. A sniveling, powerless vamp who doesn't have a soul but can't even hurt a fly anyway."

Spike flew at him, grabbing fistfuls of Angel's shirt to hold him up. "I could 'urt you mate. I could stake you into neat little piles."

Angel once again shoved him off. "You're so pathetic Spike. Groveling over Buffy _who will never want you_." 

"Much you know 'bout it," Spike muttered smugly.

"What?" Angel was taken aback but tried not to show it. 

Spike straightened himself up. "That's right Peaches. Anyone coulda convinced me months ago that Bwuffy woulda never giv'n me a second look if only to stake me when she got back . . ." He smirked. "But that ain't the case now is it?"

Angel grabbed his duster collar. "What the hell are you talking about Spike?

Spike chuckled harder, his head swinging from side to side. "I hope the irony isn't lost on you, Soul-Boy. You took Drusilla from me, what was I supposed to do but 'it you were it hurt?" Angel gaped silently at Spike for a few minutes before launching upon him, seizing him by the collar and throwing him across the graveyard into a tombstone. Running up to him, he picked up Spike again and punched him across the face. Spike just spit up blood and smiled crookedly at him again.

"I knew that get you, Peaches. Course I figured you knew 'bout _us_ the moment you stepped out o' the door. You can be as intuitive as I am, y'know." He grinned fiercely when Angel winced in reaction to that little word---_us_.

"Spike, what have you done to her?" Angel growled. "I swear, if you've hurt her, I'll kill you so fast---"

"Relax Poof," Spike drawled, backing away. "I haven't done anything to _your_ Princhessh." He scowled as he said the words. "Thought I could handle 'er, but I did the most unlikely thing." He turned and looked Angel squarely in the eyes. "I fell in love with her."

Angel, uncomfortable backed away slightly, removing his glance from Spike's. "Spike . . ." he said, with hints of rage in his voice. 

Spike sighed painfully, as if his lifeless chest suddenly got tight. "You don't have to say it. I couldn't hurt Blondie if I tried. But God" he said, shaking his head, " . . . the number she's done on me."

Angel laughed harshly. "You expect me to feel sorry for you?"

Spike gazed at him again, a surprising expression of sadness and weariness coloring his face. "Not sorry. Though sometimes I feel sorry for _you_." 

Angel was beyond shocked. "You feel sorry for _me_?"

Spike shrugged as he sank down to sit against a tombstone. "I 'ate you more than anything Peaches. But at least we 'ave somethin' in common."

Angel recoiled from his words. "_We_ have nothing in common, Spike. I'm nothing like you."

"Apart from an inclination to the finer palate o' plasma, I didn't think so neither. But we do, you know. It's that bloody bitch Summers. She's in both of our systems, eatin' away at it, poisoning everything in us. Until there's nothin' left . . . only 'er and her bloody shining hair and her insipidly beautiful smile," Spike shook his head, by now ignoring Angel. "In all my years of unlife, I never felt so dead before as when she was gone." Pursing his lips, he gazed back up at Angel, who stood above him, conflicted and confused. "You know what that's like. Face it Peaches . . . the moment we both fell for Buffy Summers, we were plagued for the rest of soddin' immortality." Spike felt around in his duster for a silver flask, which he promptly opened and gulped deeply from.

Angel was speechless. He had never seen Spike like this. The thought of Spike and Buffy together revolted him beyond belief, but he had to admit that something in Spike had changed. He had to have changed to even think of calling Angel back to Sunnydale. And the fact that Spike as yet hadn't done as much as roughed Angel up a bit certainly spoke volumes. But more than that, Angel understood the reason Spike had drunk himself into such a stupor. He understood the pain of loving Buffy. Surprising both himself and Spike, he collapsed next to the blond vampire. "Give me some," he grumbled motioning to the flask, which Spike handed over in a surprised haze. They sat there awhile, exchanging the flasks back and forth in a strange, sulking camaraderie as they both thought of Buffy.

"So you and Buffy huh?" Angel said testily.

Spike snorted. "I wish." He turned to Angel. "You know you'll always have her bleedin heart at your disposal, Poofter." Angel looked down at his childe, not knowing whether he wanted to hear this or not. Suddenly, Angel could detect a flash of golden hair in the moonlight as well as the sheen of two honeyed legs stalking up to where he was. 

"Angel!" Buffy yelled as she approached the two. Angel, still alert sprang up and walked over to her in concern.

"Buffy what is it?" 

"Have you seen Spike?" she asked, but before he could answer, she had looked over her shoulder and saw Spike, collapsed on a headstone with blood on his lip. She backed away from Angel in anger. "What have you done to him?" she demanded.

"Wha—Buffy, I haven't done anything!" he insisted, but was promptly cut off with Buffy's fist connecting with his nose. "OWWW!"

Buffy gritted her teeth. "Ok Angel, this is the second time you've shown up here and roughhoused my . . ." she paused panickedly, trying to chose the appropriate words. "One of my friends," she finished weakly.

"Since when is Spike your friend?" Angel scoffed, but Buffy's attention was drawn by Spike calling for her meekly.

"Buffy is that you?"

"Spike!" Buffy walked over to him and leaned down to inspect him. "Are you okay? What did Angel do to you?"

"Wha—Angel did no---" Spike eyes widened before his face fell into a smirk. "Oh Angel here beat me up real bad," he whined. "No provocation on my part, he just showed up here and tried to beat me into a bloody pulp."

"What?!" Angel exploded. "Buffy that's not true! Besides what do you care if Spike dies, much less gets a boo-boo?!" 

Buffy placed her hands on her hips, baring her scantily clothed body from her long leather coat. "Look you two---" she firmly started before noticing Angel and Spike's wide eyes and longing stares at her form. She abruptly wrapped the coat tight around her, breaking their glances. "I don't need you guys throwing temper tantrums and getting into hissy fits, especially now. We have something incredibly important to do, and we need you guys to cooperate. This ritual that we are going to do tomorrow---"

"Tomorrow?" both Angel and Spike said in surprise.

"Tomorrow," Buffy continued. "The ritual requires that you two work together. _NO_ fighting."

"He started it," Angel mumbled. Buffy turned to glare at him.

"Enough." She exclaimed angrily. "You two WILL work together or you'll have to answer to me." With that she turned and stalked back into the night. Astounded, both Spike and Angel looked in her direction with admiration.

"God," Spike sighed, shaking his head with amazement. "Is that not _the_ most beautiful woman you've ever seen?" Angel gazed back at Buffy, her billowing coat still visible. The whole while, he was thinking of Cordelia and the way she always looked soft and glowing when she held Conner. Snapping back to attention, he turned to a still transfixed Spike and grabbed his flask away from him. 

"Let's go Spike," he snarled, walking away with Spike soon to follow.


	19. Future Faces Past

Chapter 19: Future Faces Past

"I've got the shrunken goats heads and the chameleon feet," Anya sang loudly, sounding as if she was bringing bundles of gifts and sweets for all. Xander made a face as Anya dumped the large box of limbs and dismembered bodies into the middle of the table at the Magic Box.

"It's like we're making a big pot of ugly for this ritual," Xander gagged. 

"Oh this isn't for the ritual," Anya corrected him as she began to dig through the box. "This is for the party favors for the wedding."

Cordy wrinkled her nose from where she was sitting, feeding Conner. "Funny Xander, back in the day, I used to imagine _our_ wedding would have a little less mutilated animal parts, more tea roses," she said, slyly with a twinkle in her eye and suppressed a giggle as Anya's head shot up alarmingly and Xander sputtered. He frantically looked back and forth from Anya's hardened eyes to Cordy's amused ones. Right before Xander could burst from the thick tension, Anya laughed, a series of fake, high-pitched giggles that caught both Cordy and Xander taken aback.

"As highly infuriating as that little comment is and as inclined I am to take you off of the guest list right now, I know it's all in joking fun. Besides, it is thankfully apparent that you are already involved and hence hold no threat to my matrimonial plans."

"Wait," Cordy said shaking her head. "What made you think I'm involved with someone? I'm not involved with anyone."

Anya had turned her attentions to scanning the guest list again. "Really? So what's with the sparkity-spark-sparks you got going on with Angel?"

Xander turned excitedly to Cordy, thankful that Anya had turned her unnerving probing to anyone besides him. "Yeah what's up with that? You guys obviously got something going on."

Cordy looked shocked and speechless. "A-Angel?!" she sputtered. "I AM NOT involved with Angel!"

Anya looked at her absently. "I know you and I don't really know each other Cordelia, but you remember that I was a vengeance demon for roughly a thousand years. So I can totally spot forbidden sparkage."

"That she can." Xander was happy to show support for his fiancée, as long as it distracted Anya from the fact of his and Cordelia's history

Cordy continued to have an expression of sheer terror mixed with shock at what Anya was implying. "_Puh-leassee_," Cordy scoffed. "Angel and I just work together."

"So you get paid by the hour for following Angel all the way back to Sunnydale to help his ex-girlfriend?" Xander said with deadpan sarcasm.

"No! I mean yes! I mean, I'm Angel's co-worker _and _friend," Cordy stammered. "I came here to help him as a friend. That does _not _mean we are 'involved." She wrinkled her nose at the word. "Besides, is everyone forgetting that Angel still carries the torch for _Buffy_ and probably always will."

"Yes but Buffy's gay," Anya said a-matter-of-factly. "Maybe Angel can sense that and is drawn to you, a heterosexual woman."

Cordy shook her head resolutely. "No way. Angel is not _drawn_ to me. Angel can't sense anything!"

"I can't sense what?" Angel asked, striding into the Magic Box, pausing to smile down at Conner and Cordy. Cordy looked obviously agitated and shaken as she rushed out of her chair, dumping Conner into Angel's arms. 

"Um, sense, um . . . how wonderful it will be to be Xander's best man at his wedding," Cordy stammered, coming up with something off the top of her head while Xander got up in panic. Angel raised an eyebrow.

"You're right, I can't sense that," said he, shaking his head. "So Cordy---" 

"Um, I have to go," Cordy interrupted him, her cheeks suddenly burning a crimson shade. 

"Go?" Angel looked confused. "Go where?"

"See . . . people." Cordy rushed out the door with a bang, leaving Angel confused. 

"What was that about?" Anya and Xander shrugged. Angel sighed. "So where is everybody, I thought we were going to get started preparing for the ritual."

"Buffy's training, preparing for the good fight," Xander said, cocking his head in the direction of the training room. "Tara is at her place, gathering some witchy dealies for the spell, and Dawn is with Spike."

Angel raised an eyebrow. "Spike? Dawn? Does Buffy know about this?"

"Oh Buffy knows about it. Spike takes care of Dawn all the time. When she died, Dawn was mostly left to Spike's care," Anya reported. "Plus Dawn adores Spike. Treats him like a big brother." Xander snorted, disgusted. Angel looked equally disturbed. Ever since he came back to town, it looked like Spike had firmly established a place and role in both the Scoobies and Buffy's life. And as much as it looked like Spike had truly changed, Angel still couldn't bring himself to trust him. Suddenly Buffy entered from the training room, clutching a bottle of water. 

"Oh it's Conner!" she gushed as she saw Angel cradling the plump child. She peered into his gurgling, smiling face. "He's so cute!"

"Yeah, he doesn't even look anything like Angel does he?" Anya suddenly piped up as she distractedly wrapped the heads and feet in tissue paper. Xander, Angel and Buffy whirled around to stare at her. 

"Why would he look like Angel?" Buffy asked, furrowing her brows. Angel glared at Anya threateningly which she failed to notice.

"Well it would make sense, Conner being Angel's son and all----" Anya said, but was soon interrupted by Xander clamping one hand across her mouth, but it was too late. Buffy visibly paled and Angel turned to look at her with panic.

"Okay Anya? When we become man and wife, the things I tell you in my loopy post-sex state can _never_ be revealed." Xander exclaimed emphatically to a non-repentant Anya.

"Well its time that we all get honest here," Anya whined. "I'm tired of all the unneeded stress of having to bite my tongue about all these secrets. Conner being Angel's son, Buffy being gay . . ."

"WHAT?!" Angel and Buffy yelled in unison.

"Oh yeah, Buffy's homosexual," Anya nodded affirmatively. "With Tara." Xander groaned. Angel turned in shock to Buffy who just glared at Anya.

"I'm NOT GAY." Buffy scowled.

"Denial. Not coming out of the closet. Typical gay," Anya said flippantly. Buffy sighed in frustration.

"Look Anya, you must have been sniffing the glue on the wedding invitations. I'm not gay and Conner is not Angel's son." Angel almost unconsciously cleared his throat, which prompted shocked stares from Buffy. Her mouth opened in horror and she felt something in her stomach drop. "You mean . . ." Angel's serious eyes confirmed her fears. Buffy continued to stand there, shocked breaths filling her lungs until it became too much for her. "Excuse me," she mumbled as she fled back to the training room.

Angel panicked and asked Xander to take Conner as he rushed back to the room as well. He found Buffy sitting on the edge of a couch, her hands in her arms. She looked up, tears staining her lovely face. "Why didn't you tell me?" she whispered.

Angel sighed and sank down next to her. "I wanted to find the right time. I didn't want to lie to you about Wesley being the father, but I just couldn't tell you with all those people around."

"So instead you just go and tell Xander?" she said angrily. 

"I didn't tell him. I guess Cordy did."

Buffy sighed. "Angel how did this happen?" Her eyes carried an agonized look that hurt Angel in the gut to see it. 

"I can't explain Buffy."

"The mother?"

"Darla."

Buffy leapt from the couch. She paced around the room, tears continuing to well in her eyes. "I just don't understand this," she said. "You c-can't have children. You're a vampire."

Angel continued to gaze at her deeply from the couch. "I told you I can't explain it Buffy," he said shaking his head.

"Well try!" she yelled, whirling around to face him. "You don't understand, that child . . . Conner . . . that was supposed to be mine." Her voice broke slightly. "That was supposed to happen for _us._"

"Buffy . . ." Angel started but could not think of a single word to say. This was beyond him. Buffy looked hard and long at him, and she saw something in his face that made her know that he was sorry, but more than that, that he understood. She sighed tiredly as she sank back into the couch.

"Look Angel, I know we drifted apart a long time ago, even before you left for L.A.," Buffy stated softly, gazing down at her hands. "But . . . a part of me . . . I guess the part of every person who still jones after their first love . . ." she looked up and gazed deeply into his eyes. "Saw you holding Conner and wanted so much for that to be my child." She choked back tears and shook her head slowly back and forth, but was determined to finish. "God," she breathed, "I had such plans for us, but I wouldn't even let myself dream them." Angel shifted uncomfortably. "You weren't supposed to be able to have children . . . ever. We held off on so many things because of . . . what you were." She resumed her back-and-forth motion from sitting down to standing up again. "But the moment you get to L.A. you suddenly get to have this wonderful, beautiful, bundle of joy . . . with _Darla_ of all people, or sorry, umm, demonic, hate-filled, un-people??" 

"Buffy . . ."

"No, Angel let me finish. You being able to have Conner is an amazing thing. A wonderful, miraculous thing. I'm happy for you. But at the same time it just shows me how far off you really have become. You have this whole separate life I can't understand."

"I know Buffy but . . ."

"But more than that," Buffy's voice wavered, "Seeing Conner reminds me that you left. _You_ left, Angel. That was so hard for me to recover from. I mean, I've dealt with it _now_ . . . but . . . seeing you with this great new life just reminds me of what we could have had if you hadn't left." Tears were running down her face now and Angel approached her slowly, lightly putting his hands on her shoulders.

"Buffy you know that's not what would have happened," he started gently.

"I know," she sighed, brushing her tears away before gazing back into his eyes. "But Angel . . . do you think that things . . . would have been different if you hadn't left?"

Angel sighed and shrugged his shoulders. "We'll never know." He squinted. "But Buffy . . . you know that it wasn't a sudden thing . . . you . . . we were probably over long before that."

Buffy stiffened slightly. "W-Why Angel? What happened to us?" She shook her head in ponderance. She bit her lip as she vocalized one of her deathliest fears. "Was it m-me?"

Angel gaped at her. "You? No Buffy of course no---"

"Well then what was it? Because according my track record, I really don't have a good history of men staying. Maybe it's me, its something about me."

Angel gripped her tightly. "You know that wasn't the reason Buffy. I didn't want to leave. I didn't want to hurt you. I love---loved you," he corrected gently, "more than anything. But you know it wasn't going to work, that it would have just hurt more in the end if I had stayed."

Buffy nodded, but her voice broke once more as she said, "I know, Angel . . . but you were," her voice got softer, gentler, "my first love."

Angel eyes flashed silently with pain as he twined his arms around her, one hand cupping the back of her head that was buried in his chest. "I know Buffy," he whispered. "You were mine too." He paused to look down at her as she broke apart from his chest. "In all my 200 something years of existence, you were my first love, Buffy Summers."

She smiled softly and remained his arms for moments that seemed to stretch for eternity. It felt good, finally for her to be back where it had all started and for her to finally deal with the end of something that had given part of her much pain through the years. She needed closure. 

"You still my girl?" Angel asked, a tone of familiarity and comfort in his voice. It seemed that the words were less about the past, more about an understanding.

"Always," she replied. And she meant it. She knew that somewhere in her heart, Angel would claim a small space. Suddenly, she found herself gazing down at his lips. His eyes followed suit and gazed down at hers, and he sighed an unnecessary breath.

"Buffy . . ." Angel started in a voice full of caution.

"Shhh." Buffy placed a finger on Angel's lips as she continued to near them. "Just one last time, just so we know it's really over." Angel nodded, and he ducked to meet her. His lips brushed hers and she pressed a little firmer, although still remaining soft and gentle. It felt good to touch him, and it made her feel better to have the lack of fire burning within her, instead replaced by a sort of sad fondness, a bittersweet goodbye. She knew through his touch that he felt the same thing. Just they were about to part, they both heard a whispered, "Bloody hell," from the door.

Whirling around, Buffy turned deathly pale as her face met an equally pallored Spike and a stoic Dawn, scowling at both Angel and her sister. Angel looked with concern over at Buffy, but her eyes were locked on Spike's horrified, saddened expression. Much to her dismay, she couldn't detect a note of anger in his face, his features taken over completely with morose shock. He started out the door frantically, breaking the intense glance and Dawn started to follow him, only turning to administer a venomous glare to Angel and Buffy. Buffy tried to choke out a word, but her throat felt completely taken over by stifled tears, so instead she ran out of the room, leaving a very confused Angel.

"Spike, Dawn!" Buffy called, chasing the two as they stalked through the graveyard. 

"Sod off, Slayer!" Spike growled with familiar fierceness.

"Yeah Buff, why don't you go back and play tonsil hockey with you're ex-boyfriend and leave me and your _current_ boyfriend alone," Dawn snidely shot at a much-agitated Buffy.

"Dawn, go home," Buffy said quietly through clenched teeth.

"Yeah right, so you can plead forgiveness for your flaming infidelities?" She turned to Spike with squinted eyes. "Don't do it Spike, don't give her the satisfaction."

"DAWN GET OUT OF HERE, GO HOME!" Buffy screamed with such intense feeling that it left both Dawn and Spike slightly jarred. He turned to look at her under his blanket while Buffy stared right back, both of them ignoring an unruly Dawn who stomped home. Spike bit his lip to resist the urge to throw something at the lovely, saddened, tear-streaked face in front of him that he loved more than existence itself and roughly turned away, continuing to walk back to his crypt.

"Spike wait-----" Buffy started, trying to hold him back by grabbing one his blanketed arms. He threw it off and continued to stride away, his back facing her. She stood heartbreaking still for a moment before following him. "Spike, where are going, what are you doing?" she asked, voice trembling with fear. She followed him as he burst into his crypt. He leapt to get a worn duffel bag. 

"I'm packing," he snapped, avoiding her eyes.

"You don't have anything to pack, you're wearing everything you own," Buffy sharply retorted.

He snorted as he grabbed the half-empty duffel bag and his blanket. "Makes it the much easier to skip town, doesn't it?" he glibbed angrily as he started for the door. Buffy stood in his way.

"Skip town? Why?" Her body was becoming increasingly panicked, she could nearly feel her heartbeat race abnormally within her.

He whirled around to face her, and Buffy could see his demon side peaking, a yellow gem flickering in the center of each of his pupils. "Why do you think Slayer? You think I want to stay here and watch you and Peaches get all lovey-dovey? I'd rather you give me a sponge bath with some holy water right now."

"You _can't_ leave!" she yelled, fiercely grabbing him by his coat but he easily brushed her off.

"Why not? I figure you and my grand pap of a sire will be wantin' some space."

Buffy clenched her teeth. "Angel and I are _not------_"

"I got eyes Slayer!!!" It was Spike turn to scream now. "What, you were gonna tell me it was a mistake? You tripped and feel onto his lips?!!" Buffy stiffened. Agonized at her silence, he grabbed his blanket and headed once more for the door.

"You can't leave!" she repeated in a voice that made Spike's insides quake. "You were the one who wasn't _ever_ supposed to leave." Turning towards her, it broke Spike to see how lost and frightened she looked. He paused, wanting so much to give in. Instead, he just gritted his teeth. 

"Yeah, well that was before you and Peaches decided to set up shop together, Slayer. You think I want to stick around to see that whole circus come to town again?"

"You've stuck around for much worse," Buffy whispered, but was cut off with Spike lunging at her.

"GIVE ME A REASON TO STAY, BUFFY!!" he yelled, but making it sound less like a demand, more like a plead. Buffy stiffened as he said her real name, not the nickname 'Slayer' that she most often detested. She stared up at him, mentally flooded with reasons for him to stay. _Because Dawn needs you, because the Scoobs need you . . . because I need you . . . because I lov----_

"The ritual," she whispered instead, her eyes narrowing. "Tonight. We need you for the ritual. Advert apocalypse, the whole deal. So you can't just skip town cause you insist on carrying this whole macho, bruised ego thing. You have to stay and help us save Willow."

Spike stared maddeningly at her, wanting so much to smack the simpering scowl of decision off of her face, but knowing deep down that she was right. "Fine," he snarled. "Fine, I'll stay for this bloody mess, but after this, I'm leaving. At least this way, it's a win-win situation. If it's done I get to leave town anyway. If not, at least the bloody end o' the world will let this friggin plastic fantastic town o' Sunnydale be wiped off the map."

Buffy, inwardly shook at the possibility at his departure, but tried to wipe it from her mind. "Fine," she whispered. "Come to the magic box at 6. We'll have to get ready." But she remained there, both of them motionless.

"You'd better go," Spike muttered, pointing to the door, his eyes towards the floor. Tears welling up in Buffy's eyes, she silently obeyed, slowly walking out of the crypt with the door ragingly slaming behind her. Standing in front of the crypt, she could hear sound of violent crashing and bashing inside, knowing that Spike was probably destroying everything in his place. Taking a much needed and tearful intake of air, Buffy wobbled her way home.


	20. Confessions of the Much-Belated Kind

Chapter 20: Confessions of the Much Belated Kind

"Buffy?" Tara called softly, nimbly juggling many orbs and magick ingredients in her arms. She peered into the training room where Buffy sat hunched on the couch. "Buffy?" Tara repeated, ducking her head to inspect her.

Buffy gazed up and Tara and she could see that Buffy had been silently sobbing, her eyes blurred and face swollen. Hurriedly wiping away her tears, Buffy sprang up from the couch and weakly smiled. "Ummm, what's u-up Tara?"

"Are you okay Buffy?" Tara's face shone with concern. 

"I'm f-fine. How are the ritual plans going?"

"Good. Everyone is mostly here already." Following Tara out into the main shop, Buffy gazed at the whole Scooby gang, minus Spike, which both relieved and pained her.

"Look what Commando Xander's got!" Xander exclaimed, but his voice pitched slightly as Anya slapped his ass. "No, not _that_ Commando Xander," he corrected Anya nervously. He held up a series of tasers, like the ones Spike used on Buffy that one time with Drusilla, she remembered. Memories of Spike, even sordid ones, made Buffy ache inside slightly. "Got them from my army buds I made back when I had to stock up for Graduation Day." He frowned as he reflected on times past. "Ahh, the days of my youth, spent carefreelly battling apocalypse after apocalypse. Hmm, much like the current day. What, so this makes in end-of-world number . . .?"

"Seven," Tara, Buffy, Angel, Dawn, Cordy and Anya all chimed in unison. Xander whistled.

"We need to get like, a millionth apocalypse consolation prize. Well here you go guys, I stocked up aplenty. These should keep those possessed buggers in tandem, and plus, they're refreshingly murder-free."

"Is there one for me?" Dawn asked eagerly, fingering the load of weapons on the table. Buffy cut her a sideways glare. 

"Ummm, let me speak for all when I say _hell no_, munchkin," Xander replied. Dawn pulled her face into a scowl. "You're a little too young to be fighting to forces of darkness here, Dawnster."

"Am not. I'm almost the age Buffy was when she became the Slayer," Dawn pointed out. "And in the last brink of apocalypse, I was key player." She almost looked proud at her role in the whole Glory debacle. "So cut me some slack here guys?"

"You can help me with the spell, Dawnie," Tara said, not looking up from her magic book. "Help me set up the ingredients and that sort." Dawn smiled happily as Buffy maintained a suspicious frown. Just then, Spike burst into the shop, glowering. 

"So what, when do we get started with the killin'?" he asked brusquely, hopping up on the front table next to cash register. "I'd like to get a move on, I got other places to be." He avoided Buffy's pained glance.

"We have a couple hours until Venus rises. We have to get Willow from the hospital and prepare the ingredients." Tara's voice had acquired a sort of new, authoritative firmness to it that had before been limited to Willow and Buffy. 

"Willow. But isn't she still unconscious?" 

Tara nodded. "You'll have to find some way to get her out of the hospital without endangering her too much, Buffy."

"That'll be tough, considering all the nurses around and everything," Buffy pointed out, frowning. 

"I can go with you, if you need help," Angel offered. Spike grunted and made it a point to get up loudly. Buffy hesitated and looked over her shoulder at a sulking Spike.

"Umm, that's okay, maybe you should stay here. We'll need someone really strong to stand guard if any of Rack's gang comes to hassle you guys. Xander, you come with me."

Xander grimaced. "As if my fiancée already doesn't do her part to thoroughly make me feel like a woman . . ." He sighed begrudgingly and followed Buffy out the door.

Xander and Buffy walked into the brisk Sunnydale night in silence. Xander, confused and often alarmed by long stretches of silence repeatedly glanced over to his side, where a hard-faced Buffy stomped alongside him.

"S-So, Buffy . . . not with the lesbiantrics, huh?" Xander cringed at his pitiful attempt to reach out to his friend. He was beginning to sound as curtly tactless as Anya.

Buffy curled her lip into a disapproving half-frown. "Xander . . . you have got to stop believing what your delusional fiancée spouts. I mean, the girl is obviously not right. She thinks Bugs Bunny's the spawn of Satan."

Xander let that one slide. "I'm sorry Buff," he sighed. "Is just that . . . we kept thinking you were hiding something from us. Ever since you came back . . . you've been totally secretive and distant."

Buffy frowned when she heard the tone of hurt and disappointment in her best friend's voice. "I know Xander," she replied quietly. "I had . . . a lot of stuff to work out." She twitched when reflecting that "stuff" included the one person Xander would have most liked to stake off the planet. She was almost crestfallen when she found that Xander had no idea about her and Spike. _Not that it mattered now anyway_, Buffy told herself, melancholically. "But still," she sighed, wrinkling her nose, "How did you guys ever get the idea that I was gay?"

"Well you weren't reaching out to anyone of us except Tara. And Anya was all hyper-perceptive with the perhaps overzealous gaydar in her regular, un-p.c. fashion. A guy can get confused you know!"

Buffy grinned at Xander and his endearing impishness. He smiled back, but his face grew serious. "But Buffy, really . . . what was going on? We wanted to be there for you, we really did. But you just kept pushing all of us away, even your own sister. I mean, the only people you ever talked to were Tara and Spike. If you weren't involved in something with Tara then . . .?"

Buffy had not heard him. She had stopped dead in her tracks when Xander had spoken Spike's name. The mention of him made her eyes flash with hurt and she closed them briefly when remembering his promises on skipping town. _He can't do this_, she was screaming to herself urgently_, he can't be just one other man to do this to me again_. Opening her blurred eyes as she surfaced out of her thoughts, she met Xander's face, a pallor of ghostly shock and recognition. She groaned.

"NOOOOOOOO . . . ." Xander wheezed. "Y-you and . . . S-S-Spike?????" 

"Xander I don't want to talk about it . . ."

"Ugggghhh. Highly disturbing visions clouding my pleasantly homespun mind. Just think happy thoughts, Xan, think happy thoughts." He rubbed his head frantically.

"Xander, can we really focus on the task at hand?" Buffy asked urgently, pointing to the hospital they were approaching. 

"Task?? Task?? My main task right now is to eliminate the very, very, _very _bad pictures I have of you and the blond ghoul stuck in my cranium." He clutched and clawed at his head in an exaggerated manner before turning back to her. "Buffy!!!! Spike????? What compelled you to make this frat-boy, binge drinking hangover of a mistake?!!" Xander's eyes were bulging and a vein was pumping prominently in his left temple.

Buffy sighed. "That really isn't much of your business, Xander," she snapped, walking away from the motionless Xander on the sidewalk. 

"Uh yeah HUH it is! I mean, it is usually is standard that I _make_ it my business in cases where I go kick the ass of the aforementioned person!" he cried frantically, following her.

Buffy grabbed his arm. "Xander, no," she insisted. Xander just gaped at her.

"What do you mean NO? The guy's obviously drugged you, made you turn away from your family and friends, put some crazy-ass spell on you. Or worse, he found a way to program you, just like the Buffy-bot. Damn technology and it's perverse ways!" he exclaimed. 

"Are you quite finished?" Buffy glared at him pointedly. "Look Xander, I'll admit . . . me and Spike had a _thing_ together-----" she winced as she struggled to voice the dysfunction that was her and Spike.

"And by _thing_ you mean lots and lots of _sex_ right?" Xander interrupted, gagging. He rolled his eyes into the back of his head dramatically. "Oh God, take me now, my apocalypse has come." He contorted his face into one of horror and disgust as a light bulb went off in his head. He started to gesticulate madly when it registered. "Oh—Oh! I don't know why I didn't see it before!" he was saying. "That time Spike brought the bra and you were all low key on the bitch meter. A-And all those time you and the demon-bleached cabana boy would pull those all-nighter patrols. And OH! . . . OHH, that time me and Anya founded a mysterious pair of girly, lacy panties in the bathroom of the Magic Box along with that lighter." His face went slack and contorted as he pictured this. "Good God of Gabby Hoffman, Buffy, that's disgusting!!! You and Spike in the . . . EWWWWWW!!!"

Buffy winced at Xander's disgust. "Please Xander, can we not talk about this right now?"

"Oh we'll be talking. No, _I'll_ be talking, _you'll_ be listening. Talking and listening, all in that intervention type way."

"Not this again . . ." Buffy sighed, as they entered the hospital and scanned down the halls for Willow's room.

"Oh yes, Missy, this again. This being a concerned, best friendly attempt to keep you from diving into the dank, bottomless pit of destruction. Spike, Buffy???? What is it with you and sociopathic vampires???"

Buffy narrowed her eyes into dangerous slits. "You'll just find any excuse to throw Angel back in my face, won't you?"

"Umm, Buffy, I don't think it's so much a throw as it is a sobering face kick to the consciousness. _Angel tried to kill you and your friends and family_. And from what I recollect, Spike attempted much of the same. All around, not a stunning display of good judgement on what's boyfriend material."

"Spike is _not_ my boyfriend," Buffy confirmed, though she was nearly tempted to add "anymore." But then again, she was always unsure if that's what he ever was. She had always been afraid to voice that. "And besides Xander, I'm not sure you're the one who should be doling out the relationship advice," Buffy scoffed. "Cause from what I remember, your current fiancée tried her hand at the murderous-acts-of violence trip. And your only other previous relationship before that was with the campus princess who alternatively ruled as Bitch of the Earth." Buffy's voice spat with new venom.

For once Xander was speechless. "D-don't go around turning this on me Buffy," he struggled to reprimand. "I'm not the one who's regularly doing the nasty with a dead killer who prefers his lunches with the sharp tangy taste of O-neg."

"Just stop Xander, I don't want to talk about it."

Xander ignored her. Jumping in front of her, he waved a maniacally authoritative finger in her face. "Buffy, what is wrong with you? Before you were all 'Spike equals stakeworthy' and now you're all okay with makin' hay with him??" He shook his head. "Look, I know that coming back was really upsetting for you Buff, and that it made you turn to some . . . unsavory characters. And I know you're entitled to let you're aggressions out sometimes with meaningless flings, I mean, even I can boast of dabbling in that sort . . ." Xander's chest swelled with mannish pride when remembering his only one-night stand with Faith, but soon deflated when Xander glanced back at Buffy's stoic face. "But, Buffy . . . involving yourself in a fling with _Spike_? The guy already drools in your presence, it's not a good idea to lead him on, giving him the hope that you could even possibly care about him . . ." his voice drifted off in panicked silence as he saw Buffy's teary wide-eyes. Incredulously, he exclaimed, "BUFFFY?????"

"Xander---"

"Feelings! For Spike! Non-hatred, non-disgust, non-revulsion feelings!"

"F-feelings. Not of the big. I could have lukewarm hatred feelings! You don't know!"

"But you don't! You m-made with the face! I can tell! Y-you have romantic-y type feelings! Towards . . . SPIKE!!!!" Xander face blackened every time the he said the name.

Buffy frowned with defeat. "I-I don't," she whispered, trying to convince herself more than Xander.

"Umm, with a little, no make that ANY conviction please!" Xander continued to gape at her.

Buffy sighed. "It doesn't matter Xander. That thing we had----over." Xander still glared at her suspiciously. 

"Don't think you're getting out of this so easy Missy. The fact is that you had a _thing_ in the first place . . . with SPIKE!!! Young Harris apparently couldn't get enough of that name. 

"But nothing is happening now!" she pointed out, wincing at Xander's words. "Me and Spike . . . we're over." Buffy fought to hide her sadness that lie beneath her countenance. 

"Um, sorry Buff, I'm still stuck on the part where you were _under_ Spike. Oh god, that just made it worse."

"Xander . . ." Buffy started to say, but abruptly stopped when they both caught sight of Willow in her hospital bed. Both her and Xander ducked and crouched behind the opposite wall. "There she is," she whispered. "I don't see any nurses do you?" Both she and Xander whirled around to see if they could catch sight of any other people in the hall. 

"Nope, but I see big bad coppers at 2 o' clock," Xander declared, but sheepishly added as Buffy whirled around to see where he was indicating, "Okay, so, um, not quite sure what 2 o' clock really means."

"They must be guarding Will after what happened at the school," Buffy murmured when she detected them hovering a couple feet from Willow's room. "As soon as she regains consciousness, they'll arrest her. We've got to get her out of here now."

Moving swiftly, Buffy and Xander ducked into Willow's room. Willow, in a sweet tranquillity that many had not seen her don in a long while, lay attached to numerous IVs. "Do you think we'll hurt her?" Xander asked wistfully, sadly gazing down at his best friend. The only other time he saw her like this was all those 4 years ago after the whole Angelus nightmare. He still hadn't gotten over how small and fragile she looked in her hospital bed and how the sight tugged at his heartstrings painfully. 

Buffy was reflecting on the same thing. She shook her head. "It'll hurt her later in the end if we don't get her out now." Gingerly tugging off the I.V. tubes, she gathered Willow's limp body in her arms. Just then two cops had caught sight of them and rushed to the door.

"What do you think you're doing Miss? You're not supposed to be in here! That's a suspected felon you've got in your arms!" The taller of two cops roared. He ran up to Buffy in confusion, but she halted him by kicking him powerfully in the chest. Crumpling to the floor, the cop's wide-eyed partner lunged at Buffy, trying to tug Willow's body away from her arms, but she was just as soon stopped by Buffy sharply administering a punch to her face. The cop staggered a bit, astounded by Buffy's strength and did her best to compose herself as Buffy almost made it through the door with Willow. "FREEZE!" she yelled, holding a gun in front of her with shaken hands. Panicked, Buffy slowly turned round, still holding Willow. _There was no way to do this now_, she thought agonizingly to herself. Just then she noticed Xander behind the cop, slowly fingering a taser that was hidden in his pocket. 

"Xander . . ." Buffy whispered urgently. The cop whirled around in confusion to find who it was Buffy was referring to, but soon after collapsed as Xander struck her with the powerfully numbing force. Sidling up to Buffy, Xander pushed them out of the door. 

"Let's go," he whispered, and they both broke into a run, with Willow raggedly flopping about in Buffy's arms. Not ceasing to heed the yells and protests of the doctors and nurses they met in the hall, as well as encountering a few stray guards that physically grappled to obstruct the three, Buffy, Willow and Xander finally burst out of the hospital, back into the cool night. In the corner of her eye, Buffy could detect over the horizon a ruby gem-like dot of color. Venus was beginning to rise.


	21. Feelings Recognized

Chapter 21: Feelings Recognized

"We've got her!" The bell on the Magic Box door, poised to make its usual clang of greeting, was broken of its hinges by the force of which the door was thrust open. As it opened, it framed a frantic and ragged Xander and Buffy, both clutching an unconscious Willow. Most of the other Scoobies rushed to where the two were standing and helped them with Willow, carrying her to the backroom and laying her on a couch. "What do we do now?" Buffy asked gazing down at Willow and the rest gathered near her. "I saw Venus beginning to rise. When do we start the ritual?"

"Well we have to sniff out Rack's coven don't we?" Angel asked. "We can't start the ritual at all until we've found him."

"Yeah," Tara replied, lost in reflection. "You and Spike will need to get started searching for it right away."

"I'm not working with that ponce!" Spike exploded. "No way in hell!"

"Spike!" Buffy gave him a cold stare with her hands on her hips. "You promised!"

"That was before . . ." he started but became increasingly aware of confused glances his way. He sidled up to Buffy and ducked his head near her and hissed. "That was before you and _him_" he cocked his head vengefully in Angel's direction, "Resumed old filthy habits." He looked her dangerously in her eyes, his demon side bubbling within. Xander cleared his throat quite loudly, frowning at their obvious display.

Buffy stared back, her gaze caught in his, and almost involuntarily, she teared up. But she set her teeth forward and stuck her chin out with decision. "This isn't about you and Angel," she reminded him. "This is about Willow. About everyone else involved. People who will _die_ if you don't help take care of this. If you _don't_ cooperate," she paused, gaining new strength in her stare. "I swear I'll kill you before you make it out of town, Spike."

Spike cocked his head at her before he pursed his lips and clenched his jaw but nodded as he backed away. Judging by her body language, he knew she meant it. Not like it was such a bad way to go, Spike thought. Nothing worse than dying in the arms of the only person you ever loved. BY the arms, whatever. "I'll go with Angel and Spike," Buffy announced, turning back to the rest of the group. "What about you guys? How does this work?"

"We all need to go," Tara said grimly, arranging a number of vials in a large wooden box. "I have to go along with Willow to do the ritual at Rack's coven. That's the easiest way, bringing the fight to him. All the rest of you guys will need to be there for back up." Buffy was becoming increasingly surprised at the way Tara was really asserting herself with this ritual plan. Buffy herself felt more in the dark about how to handle the whole thing.

"And me!" Dawn beamed with pride at being included. "Don't forget me, big ol' backup provider." Tara nodded gently with a smile.

"That sounds kind of dangerous," Buffy reflected with a frown. "We should really split up, do more damage that way."

"No way." Tara shook her head resolutely. "This is only going to work if we stay together."

"Like the soddin' Brady Bunch," Spike mumbled under his breath.

"What about me?" Cordy asked from the table, still clutching and rocking Conner in her usual fashion. 

"You'll have to stay here with Conner," Angel assured her, patting her on the shoulder. "You'll have to stay here, since Rack already knows where Buffy lives. It would be too dangerous for you to be there."

"I have to stay _here_?" Cordy exclaimed, miffed. "I feel like I'm not helping enough," she said, worriedly looking up at Angel. "I came all this way down here, and I feel like I haven't _done_ anything." Angel hesitated when he saw her earnest, regretful look.

"Well on the bright side Cordy, you've been a breath of fresh _bitch_ to the town of Sunnydale," Xander tried to comfort. He frowned when he saw Cordy's familiar old Queen C glare. "Sorry," he apologized. "Force of habit. I always associated the word _bitch_ with you."

Cordy sighed. "I just wanted to help," she began, but suddenly looked as if she had been gripped with an enormous pain that was pulsing through her body. "Quick," she whispered. "Take him." Nearly throwing Conner at Anya, she was thrown to the wall, gripping her head the whole time. "At . . . the . . . pier . . ." she was mumbling through wheezing gasps. Everyone ducked near in concern.

"What's happening?" Xander yelled with concern over his ex-girlfriend.

"She's having a vision," Angel yelled back before jumping in to scoop Cordy in his arms before she was thrown into another wall. It killed him to see how bad these visions were affecting Cordy. "Hey, Cord, are you all right," he asked, painfully concerned as he smoothed her hair from her face.

"The pier . . ." she was still mumbling. "Pier 65, at the marina . . . he's there." In her mind, she saw legions of ghoul-like hippies all fighting powerfully with what appeared to be Buffy, Angel and Spike. She then saw a tall, greasy-haired man, grinning with dark hatred. She saw him suddenly clutching Buffy who soon fell to the floor. Seeing Angel rush near her, she then saw the tall man throw him across the room. "It's him . . ." her eyes glazed over with recognition. "It's Rack." Everyone stared at her in amazement. But soon amazement was replaced by worry as Cordy slumped over and fell unconscious.

"Cordy?!" Angel yelled, trying to shake her into revival. "Cordy, are you okay?!"

"She's unconscious," Xander exclaimed, trying to get to her and feel her wrist. "Oh my God. I don't feel a pulse." Wide-eyed, he turned to a stricken Angel who bit his lip and ragingly shook Cordy further. A few more minutes of the rest of the Scoobies standing over her with fear. Screaming out suggestions ensued.

"Pour some water over her head," Dawn suggested.

"I'll find a spell that can revive her," Tara was saying, running for a spell book.

"Sit the git up! Slap her silly!" Spike yelled.

"I like his idea," Anya exclaimed. "Slap her." She shrugged when Xander gaped at her. "I'm just trying to help," she murmured.

"_Or_, considering the girl doesn't have a _pulse_, we could try calling an ambulance. Did anyone think of that?!!" Xander yelled in frustration.

"Right." Buffy immediately grabbed a phone and started dialing. "Hello, 911? We've got a female here, unconscious, no pulse . . ." But just as soon Cordy screamed back to life, her whole body shaking. Angel ducked and caught her, sighing with relief and teary anger.

"Cordy!" he was screaming. "Don't ever scare me like that again!" He reached up and hugged her tightly. "We thought we lost you!"

"W-what happened?" Cordy whispered, still dazed. She struggled to sit up, but her weak arms gave way under her. 

"T-that . . . vision thing," Dawn said, shaking with fascination. "T-that's so . . . COOL! Hey Buffy, how come you can't do that? You're the Slayer and you don't do cool things like . . . that." Dawn's alacrity faded when Angel glared at her. 

"M-m-my god, a-are you okay?" Tara stammered with genuine concern. "I can't believe you have vision powers. And that powerful too."

"Yeah," Cordy grinned, sheepishly proud. "Powerful . . . visions, the only visions of choice." She winced as she gripped her head. "God . . . can you get me my pills from my purse?" she motioned Anya towards her bag.

"I'm really glad you're okay, Cordelia," Buffy said, trying to mask her impatience with sincere concern. "B-but, you said you saw Rack. Where was he?"

"Pier 65, at the marina," Cordy smiled broadly to finally be of help. "On some huge boat."

Buffy turned to Tara. "This is great. This saves a lot of time of hunting for him." Tara nodded happily. Angel, however, refused to leave Cordy's side. 

"Cordy, we have to get you to the hospital," he whispered to her urgently.

"What? No!" she scoffed, trying once more to get up, but slipped once more to the floor. "I'm . . . fine."

"Hey Cord? If your standards of 'fine' is being _dead_ for 6 minutes, than you got a really short, _fine_ life ahead of you." Xander tried to mask his fear with his usual sharp tongue.

"Dead?" Cordy looked quizzically from person.

"You had no pulse for 6 minutes Cordy," Angel filled her in gently.

"Wow. I was dead?" Cordy looked over towards Buffy. "What goes around comes around I guess." Buffy shrugged knowingly. She looked back towards Angel with fear. "Angel . . . I saw Buffy and you in my vision. You guys got hurt."

Buffy snorted. "You guys are worrying your pretty heads about nothing. I keep telling you, I've already taken tough stuff before. Why is this shampoo-deprived loser scaring all you guys?"

Cordy continued to gaze into Angel's deep, brooding eyes. "I want you to be careful Angel," she stated softly, seriously. He nodded, but his impenetrable gaze never left hers. Something suddenly stirred in Cordy, something that she hadn't felt for a long time, at least not since Doyle. Their eyes remained locked until Cordy opened her mouth to say something, instead keeling back over before a word could be said. 

"Cordy?! Okay, that's it we're getting you to hospital!" Angel picked her up, but Buffy stopped him by lightly placing a hand on his shoulder. 

"Angel, we don't have enough time, Venus is already beginning to rise. We can just let her wait here while the ambulance comes." 

Angel stared at her in incredulous anger. "I am not letting Cordy stay here by herself when she's like this," he said through clenched teeth. Buffy was surprised at the intensity with which he had made the declaration. She returned his glare with an equally venomous one.

"Ok, how's this," Xander suggested, trying to alleviate the obvious tension. "Me and Ahn will drive Cordy down to the hospital and then meet up with you guys later down at the pier." Reluctantly, all agreed, and Angel tried to hand over to Xander, who meekly accepted with quivering arms.

"Wait." Cordy groggily lifted her head up before Angel had let her go. Impulsively reaching to grab the back of his head, she swooped him down to crush his lips against hers. Angel, at first confused, responded with equal fervor. As they parted, the rest of the group simultaneously gasped with gaping mouths and wide eyes. Oblivious to the rest, Angel gazed back down at Cordy, equally amazed. "That's something for you if you get hurt," she said sheepishly, with a small smile. "Something for you to fight for." Angel, full of understanding, smiled down at her intensely and pressed another softer kiss to her lips. Spike made an audible noise.

"For a dead poofter, you keep racking up the hot young bodies don't you mate?" he smirked. He stole a furtive glance at Buffy who immediately stiffened. She had her brow furrowed and was looking on with obvious discomfort, but she hurriedly tried to mask it with initiative. 

"Okay, so you and Anya take Cordy to the hospital," she said to Xander. "Take extra tasers just in case. Dawn, you go with them, watch over Conner." Dawn opened her mouth to object but when Conner was dumped in her arms, she gleamed at with sweet maternalism. They were actually letting her take care of something, _someone_, she thought with ecstatic glee. They all nodded, taking their roles and emptied the Magic Box, ready for their mission.


	22. Venus Rising

Chapter 22: Venus Rising

Buffy, Angel, Tara and Spike, who grudgingly carried Willow stood on the pier, all wrinkled their nose at the dank smell that pervaded over the dripping darkness. "Rack _really_ hasn't heard of term 'location, location, location' has he?" Buffy said, glancing at the squalid atmosphere of the pier.

"Okay. Before we crash the house party, let's get started with ritual." Tara was carrying the large wooden box on a shoulder, held by a strap. Opening it, it divided into many compartments. Scanning them, she dragged out the Bublosoth amulet. "Everyone sit, forming a triangle."

Spike cleared his throat. "Uh . . . Glinda? What to do with Red?" He shifted the still unconscious Willow uncomfortably in his arms.

Tara looked up. "Just let her lean on you. We have to make a triangular force." She began to sprinkle a blue powder in a triangular pattern, with a circle in the middle. Then she sprinkled various fragrant herbs and powders, all dusting together within the circle.

"Look here, are we gonna kick some warlock ass or are we settin' up some goddamn potpourri party?" Spike growled impatiently. Tara ignored him and motioned all to sit.

"I really should have changed my clothes before I came," Buffy said, wincing as she crossed her leather-clad legs on the damp, rotted wood of the pier.

"Angel, get in the middle," Tara ordered, handing him a large dagger. Quizzically he took it along with the amulet and sat cross-legged in the middle. "While we say the chant, you have to draw blood, letting it drip into the amulet." She nodded towards a smirking Spike and solemn Buffy who began reading the chant Tara had written out for them.

"Axises, Dominum, Hectuim, Thereseum, Venitus. Ulibium, Feritia, Melanium," Spike, Buffy and Tara chanted, all gripping each others hands as Angel dragged the sharp blade against his lily-white skin, wincing at the cool touch. Blood flowed gently, easily and he held up the cup-shaped amulet up to his cut, letting it fill. Snapping it closed, Angel held it reverently in his hands. Suddenly, it began to glow greenish fire and float in mid-air.

"Bloody hell," Spike whispered, eyes wide. "That's a good light show, Blondie." The amulet continued to float in the air, growing more and more intense in color before it flashed with blinding light, so powerful that all four had shield their eyes. Then it dropped back into Angel's hand, with him gaping at the small bulb in the center of his palm. Astounded and speechless, Spike Angel and Buffy turned to Tara. She grinned proudly. 

"Pretty cool huh? Let's go." 

Gathering up their supplies and ready to burst in Rack's coven, they were interrupted by a hissing snarl behind them.

"Slayer," numerous gravelly voices scowled in unison. Turning to face them, Buffy viewed a crowd of witches, a mixture of goths, decked out in vinyled black and piercings and flowery hippie Wiccans whose sweetly shining faces had been replaced by glazed, menacing stares. 

"_That's_ Rack's bloody legion?" Spike snorted. "In between the paisleyed stoners and the Goth rejects, I'm thinkin' this makes for an easy win." 

"Wrong," the legion eerily chimed in unison, all in borrowed voices from Rack. They roared and lunged towards the group, which scattered and began to fight. 

"Tara!" Buffy called over her shoulder, battling with an irately tattooed female witch. "You and Willow go into the coven and get started with the ritual!" She threw the amulet towards Tara, which she caught.

"Right!" Gathering Willow limply over her shoulder, Tara ducked into the wobbling mystical dimension, their entrance accompanied by only a popping sound.

Buffy, Angel and Spike continued to battle the legion. Spike truly underestimated the power of the legion, for they made for a good match for the three. Previously pacific Wiccans were doling out hard punches, twirling dragon kicks, powerful roundhouses. Buffy, gasping and thrown by a silken clad, longhaired girl into a wall, scanned the scene. "Where is Xander and Anya?" she asked urgently to Spike, who stood opposite to her, doing battle with a young Birkenstocked man. Ducking from a punch that carelessly left a breaching hole in the bricked wall, Spike kicked his legs from under the man and leaned down to taser him. Just as soon, another girl growled and lunged upon his back, clawing with her nails and teeth into his skin. He howled with pain, but leaned forward so that the girl would flip and sprawl into the air, crashing into the wall. 

"I dunno, but I hope they get 'ere soon. We definitely need back up," Spike was yelling as he tasered the girl and turned to fight another agitated Wiccan. "If the whelp and she-demon have stopped to shag along the way, I'll kill 'em."

"Here we are!" Xander and Anya showed up, breathless and wide-eyed when surveying the scene. "Dawn's at the hospital with Cordy."

"Good." Buffy immediately threw them a pair of tasers each and motioned that they join the fight. Xander lunged towards a spiked, black-lipsticked girl and began grappling with her. Anya shrieked with momentary fear and ducked to avoid every blow. Gingerly, she turned and avoided a kick from another witch, pointing her taser toward her. Angel was battling five witches at a time, three girls and two boys, all viciously throwing out punches and kicks. He had taken three out already, but one of the girls left picked him up and threw him up towards the wall, leaving him to crash through the stone and brick. Spike took his place, immediately punching the two girls and tasering them quickly.

"Piss and Bollocks," he mused. "Sure feels strange to be battlin' humans again. Somethin' wrong with the chip?" He asked hopefully.

Buffy threw him a sideways glare as she battled with a witch. "Don't get all excited, Spike. It's because they're possessed by a warlock, you violence-obsessed dork."

"Ooooo, sharp one Slayer, that'll sting for days." Even battling side by side, he could find a way to irritate her. He paused to glower at her while she did the same, but was soon as always, caught in an intense gaze that conveyed hidden longing, passion, lust . . . love. They maintained the glance, one only to be interrupted by Xander calling, "Buffy look out behind you!" Whirling around, she turned to face a stampede of three zealous witches storming her. Squatting down, she propelled herself up on her Slayer, springy-like legs and jumped above them. Taking them on one by one, she kicked one of the three girls, immediately tasering her, then finishing off the other two. The fight continued with a groggy Angel sitting up amongst the rubble, shaking the dust out and jumping back into battle. Slowly, painfully, and tiredly, the Scoobs had weaned down the legion until they were just scattered unconscious bodies all over the pier. Gasping, slightly bloody and very bruised, Xander and Anya crawled towards Buffy. 

"What do we do now?"

"We got to see if Tara and Willow are okay in there," Buffy huffed, motioning to the boat. Nodding, all limped and gasped as they felt a cold jelly-like draft come over them as they fell into the coven.

Gripping Willow beside her, Tara desperately and meekly spat out the magical words as Rack smilingly reclined amongst silken pillows with scantily clad girls fanning and petting him. 

"Osiris, Father of all Mysticism above, hold back the forces of darkness, the night's unholiest light itself, as shades intermix, separate, as black fades into white, divide, protect your humble being, vessel of good, and defend against this virulent power." Tara's eyes went as dark as night as a power coursed through her, all the while gripping Willow.

"I think the key word here is _power_, child," Rack chuckled. "You don't have it but I do." He lazily sauntered towards Tara. " You think you can use magic to protect your lover?" He laughed harder now, more dangerously as he leaned in towards her. "I . . . wrote . . . the . . . book . . . on . . . magic."

"Yeah, but did you write the book on getting beat down by the wise ass Slayer and her friends?" A voice asked cheerily from behind. Tara whirled around with Willow and sighed with relief as she saw Buffy flanked by Angel and Spike. Tara turned back to Rack triumphantly and held Willow with new strength.

"Spirits divide!" She yelled, placing the amulet on Willows forehead, causing her to lurch forward involuntarily. Crying out in pain, Willow opened her mouth wide, letting a stream of light flow out from it, coursing through her and spreading back into Rack, him convulsively shaking and screaming as the spirit transferred. Willow collapsed but woke as if from a deep sleep. 

"What happened?" She whispered snuggling up to Tara who sank down to comfort her.

"Shhh baby, shhh. I found you," she soothed gently. "Just like me, you got lost. And just like you, I found you." She pressed a kiss to Willow's forehead as she rocked her back and forth in her arms. All the while, Rack shook off the momentary pain that the transference caused. 

"Hmmm. That was fun. But tell me once again why you're here?" Rack quipped with bored annoyance. 

"To kill you," Buffy snarled. Rack threw his greasy strands back, cascading over his shoulders as he laughed deeply.

"How _stupid_ can you all be? I can't be killed. Watch and learn." Whipping out a dagger he thrust into his side then exposed it for all to see how quickly it healed, as if nothing had touched him. "I'm immortal. And I'm getting kind of restless, waiting around for the opening of the Hellmouth, as well as getting my powers back. So if you could kindly be disposed of, it would aide me immensely." He cocked his head with impatience.

"You may be immortal Rack," Buffy cut snidely. " . . . But you're still massively unattractive. Do the words 'wash, rinse, repeat' mean anything to you? Tara! The amulet!" She spun around and caught the small spherical amulet that Tara hurled in her direction. Grabbing it, she ran for Rack who stopped her by throwing her against the wall. Spike and Angel lunged at him, but Buffy pushed them out of the way and barreled his way. Fiercely, she threw a powerful punch and knocked him off his feet. Reacting, Rack threw himself back up and tried to flip Buffy over and succeeded in throwing her on her back. Catching his ankles in her legs, she twisted and flipped him over but he was too quick for her. As he struggled back up, he grabbed her wrists together with a force that Buffy could not budge from. He threw the dagger he held previously and raised it over his head, Buffy wincing from the oncoming pain. Suddenly, Spike grabbed his arm and kicked him in the gut while Angel punched him. All three fought him viciously now, but he was quick enough to take all of them. At one moment, Buffy had cornered him, poised and ready to crush the Bublosoth amulet to his skin to make him mortal, but upon seeing it, he kicked it out her hand, sending her and the amulet sprawling to the floor. Collapsing she saw the amulet that fell a few feet from her. Scrambling to retrieve it, Rack reached it first. Glowering he straightened, fingering the amulet carefully.

"You thought you could use _this_ contraption to make me a lowly mortal?" He laughed viciously. "You probably could have, if not the unlucky fact that I now have it." He grinned devilishly and juggled it in his hands. Buffy gaped with fear and whispered to Angel and Spike, "Go get it, guys, get it from him! You have to do it now, or the ritual is ruined!!" Jumping up herself, she rushed him and kicked him in the face with such force that he let go of the amulet, it leaping into the air, nearly off the side of the boat. Angel ran to catch it just in time, hanging dangerously over the water. Buffy continued to pummel Rack who had seemingly began to give into defeat. Suddenly, he grabbed Buffy's wrists and forced them against his chest, and Buffy slumped, feeling a paralyzing chill erupt within her. He let go and threw an unconscious Buffy to the side.

"Buffy!!!" Spike yelled with rage. Looking at the love of his unlife, passed out at the hands of this chit of a warlock, he felt a bubbling rage pass through him at alarming speed. He turned his shocked glance to Rack, and slipping into demon face, he roared at him, screaming at Angel for the amulet. Catching it, he stormed Rack and let the cold metal of the amulet sink into Rack's skin. Rack began to scream with intense pain, the pain of becoming human. Spike had let go and was ready to finish him off with a spare stake, but just as soon Rack threw it out of his hands, still pursuing a fight with both vampires. Tara inched near Buffy, concerned at her state.

"What happened to Buffy?" Willow was whispering, gazing down at her friend who seemed to be in lethargic, dreamlike state. Buffy was visibly writhing and whining in her sleep, her eyelids fluttering.

"I-I-I d-don't know," Tara stammered. "I think Rack made her unconscious." She tried to shake Buffy and even ventured to slap her a couple times but Buffy hung steadfastly to her dream world. "Buffy?!!" She shook her harder now, but her eyes wouldn't budge. She brought her head down close to Buffy's and heard the distinct sound of hushed whispers all circling her head. "I can't wake her up. Something's wrong. Rack didn't just make her go naptime . . . He's inside her head." Exchanging fearful glances with her girlfriend, Tara looked back at a shaking Buffy. "We've got to get inside her head, see what Rack's doing to her. We have to bring her back." Willow nodded. Taking a deep breath, Tara placed her hand over Buffy's face and closed her own eyes, prepared to take a visit through her mind.


	23. Mind Games

Chapter 23: Mind Games

Tara felt a flash of energy spread through her veins, forcing her to arch back and gasp for air. The energy built and built until Tara felt as if it was forcing her to float and levitate from the ground. Then suddenly, she collapsed, everything in her peripheral vision darkening and blackening, and she felt her body hit the cold hardness of a steely floor. Groggily, she sat up and gazed around her. She blinked back the cloudiness that permeated through what appeared to be a closed off little room and scanned around to locate Buffy. She wasn't exactly sure what she would do once she found her, this wasn't like the time Willow went through Buffy's head. This was imposed on Buffy, by someone who's power Tara could scarcely comprehend. She could only pray that she would be able to save Buffy in time. Suddenly she saw her. Ghost-like, Buffy sat at a table, staring vacuously in front of her while Rack circled her menacingly.

"You failed again," he was saying. "You always fail. What's the point in fighting it?"

"I d-don't know w-what y-you're talking about." Buffy shook her head feverishly with tears in her eyes. Tara had rarely ever seen her so weak. 

"You know. The good fight. Life. Love. You fail at everything. Look at you now. Here you are whimpering while all of your friends fight the fight you're supposed to." 

"I can kill you. I will kill you. And if I don't they will." Buffy glared at him sharply.

Rack laughed as lazily circled her once more, leaning in towards her so that his cold breath spread across her neck. Buffy recoiled from the touch. "They might . . ." he whispered, "they might not." Chuckling he straightened as he stepped away from her. "Not like it matters. You might win this fight, but eventually, you'll fail . . . again."

"No," Buffy whispered hoarsely.

Rack maintained a fiendish smile, slowly harshly. "Yes you will. You were born to fail. You were born to fight. You're the Slayer. You were chosen to fight against the forces of darkness, but guess what?" He cocked his head as he spat out the words venomously. "They won't stop coming. You can fight them, but you'll never stop them from coming. Your whole life will be full of ugliness and despair, because evil . . . and _death_ will always find you, consume you. And eventually . . . you'll give in . . . like last time."

"No," she continued say, eyes vacant.

"You were lucky last time. Your friends toyed with the fates, brought you back, saved you from your destiny. Or did they? Didn't they just prolong it? Because eventually _you will lose the good fight_. You have to. Face it. You were better off lying in your grave."

"NO!" Buffy ground her hands to her ears and squeezed her eyes closed tightly, trying to avoid the truth.

"What is there for you, Buffy? What holds you to life? Your friends, family? Look at them Buffy. They were doing fine without you. Now you come back and look what happened. They tore you from the highest bliss. How can you trust them? And look how they are. Your best friend in shambles, you're surrogate father gone . . .

"You're the Slayer. _Death is your gift," _he continued. "Your own sister was created from you in order to die. You're destiny is the same. Kill or be killed. You can fight every demon in the book and there will always be a new one by nightfall. And you have no choice but to kill them. You couldn't give up being the Slayer if you tried, not with that simpleton conscience of yours. And you'll kill and kill and kill for the rest of your days. Until there's no place in your life for anything else. And eventually, you'll have enough. You'll give in. You'll no longer kill. You'll secretly pray for the day you _are_ killed."

"NO!" Buffy screamed once more and Tara winced from the scene. Buffy threw back the chair she was sitting in and ran for the door of the room. Rack chuckled. 

"You can't run from the truth Buffy. You can try and seek solace in the arms you're lover, your friend, but you know that won't last long, now will it. He's getting ready to leave. And they'll all leave you Buffy . . . they always do . . . your father . . . Angel . . . Riley . . . now him . . ._ Death is your gift, Buffy_. The Powers that Be never said Love was. Because who would ever want to love the shell of a killer?" His eyes narrowed as he emphasized the words demonically.

Buffy stared at him, somehow unable to lift a hand against him. She just stood broken, defeated, giving into the web of verbal barbs he constructed that she could never deny. Pleased at the sight of her giving in, he unsheathed a large dagger, letting it flicker and glow menacingly in the dim light. Suddenly, his flashed towards her as he handed it to her. "Do it, Buffy," he instructed. "You know you want to. Accept you're destiny. Accept solace." Blankly, Buffy accepted the dagger and stared at it as she slowly turned it around in her hands. With shaking hands, she slowly gripped it with both hands and held it inches from her heart. She closed her eyes as she prepared to plunge it into her chest.

"NO!" Tara screamed, rushing out of the shadows, catching Buffy's wrists in her hands. "Buffy you don't want to do this!"

Buffy turned to Tara in a haze. "Yes I do," she whispered to Tara tearfully, yet flatly. She turned back to Rack with empty eyes. "He's right. This is my destiny."

"No it's not Buffy!" Tara exclaimed, tugging Buffy insistently. "This . . . this is just a dream. This is something that Rack created. Something that he's fed into your mind in order to break you down so he'll win. You can't listen to him!"

"Everything he said is true, Tara." Buffy turned to Tara once more, and Tara could see an eerie recognition in her eyes. Tara shook her head firmly.

"No. He just wants to win, can't you see that Buffy. _This_ is just a dream. A hallucination. But if you kill yourself, in your mind, it'll shut down . . . you'll be brain dead . . . _dead _dead."

Buffy continued to stare at Tara quietly. "But it's my destiny," she repeated.

Bloody and beaten, Rack sputtered up human blood as he stepped back from the two vampires. "You fools might have made me mortal," he snarled. "But I've still got power you'll never comprehend."

Spike cocked his head. "Really? Cause from where I'm standin', it looks like all you've got is a piss-ugly split lip. Don't you agree Peaches?"

"Oh, piss-ugly, that's for sure," Angel nodded seriously.

Roaring, Rack threw up his hands, sending an invisible power that threw both Angel and Spike up against the wall, leaving them disoriented and dazed. Sitting up, they realized what was going on, and rushed back to fight. Rack picked up a spare rod and sparred with both of them, one on either side. At a feverish pace, the three began to battle with no signs of letting down. Suddenly Rack swung the rod round, as to trip Spike and to let him fall to his back. He threw the rod above his head and was prepared to stake Spike then and there, but Angel screamed out, "Spike!" as he lunged for the warlock's arm. Pushing him off, Rack sent him flying into the air, once more crashing into the wall, sending a heavy bed flying after him. Crushed against the wall, Angel looked on in horror as Rack speared Spike as he tried to roll out of the way. With the rod sticking out of his chest, Spike screamed out in pain.

"Tara!" Willow yelled, trying to shake her unconscious girlfriend. Looking round her nervously, she placed her hand on Tara head and told her telepathically what was going on.

Tara's eyes flashed at the message. Turning once more to Buffy, she tried to grab the dagger from her hands. "Buffy," she insisted urgently. "We have to go, you have to fight him."

Rack continued to hold Buffy's glance. "I can't Tara. You guys can take care of it . . ."

"NO WE CAN'T BUFFY! We need you! Spike needs you!"

"Don't listen to her delusional rants Buffy," Rack snarled, motioning towards the dagger. "She was one of the ones who tore you from heaven. Why believe her?"

"Buffy!" Tara was screaming now to get through to a motionless Buffy. "You've got to listen to me, we have to go. Spike's in trouble." 

Buffy turned to Tara. "Spike doesn't need me," she said sharply, caustically. "If he did, he wouldn't be leaving, like every other man in my life."

Tara looked at her agonizingly. "Buffy . . . Spike loves you . . . he'd never leave you . . . he might threaten to, but you know deep in his heart that he could never, ever leave you."

"He would! He's planning to, after this is all over! Face it Tara, I'll never have a normal life, I have to accept fate!"

Tara suddenly had an idea. "Buffy," she tried once more. "If we don't get out of here, Spike won't even have a chance to leave. Right as we speak, Rack is staking him."

Buffy's eyes suddenly widened. She stared at Tara strangely, with clarity now, as if she had fell out of Rack's spell. She turned and stared at Rack who only clenched his teeth threateningly. "Don't listen to her Buffy," he repeated. "They're lies, all of them. You can see through all them, can't you?"

Buffy nodded solemnly. Suddenly, with a spring-like motion, she thrust the dagger into Rack's chest. He gasped at the contact and lurched over as Buffy thrust it back out. "That's right," Buffy whispered quietly as his body dissipated into thin air. "I _can_." Turning to Tara, she looked her squarely in the eyes. "Bring me back Tara," she said. Tara nodded as she took Buffy's hand in hers.

Buffy whimpered slightly as her eyes parted. She moaned at the raging pain in her head and Angel, who lay near her, crawled over in intense concern. "Buffy?" he asked, fearfully, stroking her bruised forehead.

Buffy still struggled to see past her blinding headache. "S-Spike?" she murmured softly. Angel drew back, confused and hurt at her calling for Spike instead of him. Spike was a few feet away, pulling the rod out of his chest, centimeters away from his heart and grunting in pain as it came out, spurting blood. Seeing her awake, he rushed to her side, covering up his wound. 

"Luv? Oh God, are you all right?" Spike hovered over her. His face looked deathly pale and his piercing blue eyes were glazed with trepidation.

"What happened, where's Rack?" Buffy whispered, not moving from where she was still lying. 

"H-he's dead pet. I don't know what happened, he just lurched over and died, the bloody pillock." Spike pressed a careful kiss to her forehead, desperately happy that she was fine. 

"It's because you killed him Buffy," Tara said, drawing near to the couple. "Inside your head, you won over him. He had that immense power, but you won over him. It's all over."

Buffy choked back an exhaustedly relieved sob. "I-it's over?"

"God, yes baby. And you're fine, you're alright now," Spike said, gathering her in his arms as he tried to soothe her. Buffy nodded and collapsed into his strong arms that immediately warmed her, burying herself into the safety of his chest. Suddenly, she pushed him back and punched him powerfully, square in the nose.

"Bloody hell!" he yelped, taking the hand on his bloody chest wound to his nose. "What the bollocks was that for???"

Buffy sat up, infuriated. "You son-of-a-bitch. You bastard." She yelled. "You were going to leave. . .You were going to leave me . . . " her eyes glazed over and her lip trembled as she broke down. "Don't . . . ever . . . leave me," she sobbed, as she fell back into his arms, her lovely skin getting bloodied by his wounds.

"Never, pet," Spike answered back, tears falling freely from his eyes as well as he gripped her tight. The two of them became lost in each other's arms as they rocked back and forth, oblivious to everyone else. Tara, Willow and Angel looked on in amazement as the two clung to each other tight.


	24. Coming Home At Last

Chapter 24: Coming Home At Last

Angel sat on the back stoop of the Summers home in shade the next day, quietly reflecting on the events of the past couple days. He had come to a realization when he finally saw Spike and Buffy, crying in each other's arms. For some reason, it was both a discomfort and a relief. He now knew that Spike loved Buffy with all of his being and would have given up everything for her. He knew that Spike would take care of her, and more importantly, that Buffy wanted, needed him to. It was slightly painful of course, to see his first love with his old nemesis, but deep down, he was happy that Buffy was happy. And she was. He knew it.

"Sitting out here brooding, or just catchin' some rays?" A voice asked playfully behind him. Turning around, he saw Buffy, leaning against the doorframe. Smiling softly, he adjusted himself as a silent invitation for Buffy to join him on the stoop.

"Not brooding. I don't think I do that much anymore." He awkwardly glanced slightly towards Buffy, who nodded knowingly.

"I understand. You've got a good life going for you now Angel."

"You do too, Buffy. I mean that." They exchanged looks and both honest and genuine. They stared at each other, not uncomfortably, but smilingly as a silent sort of agreement passed between them.

"Yeah. I do, don't I?" Buffy smiled.

"You do. Well, maybe not the calmest, considering the routine of these past few days, but when has life in Sunnydale ever been calm?"

Buffy cleared her throat and stopped smiling. "I . . . just wanted to thank you for coming back to Sunnydale, Angel. It was good to see you again."

"You too Buffy." Then both of them fell silent again, but this time, the silence resumed its awkwardness. 

"So . . ." Buffy leaned slightly towards him uncomfortably. "You and Cordelia?" She shot a glance at Angel, who shifted uncomfortably before breaking out into a small chuckle.

"So . . ." he mimicked. "You and Spike."

Buffy raised her eyebrows. "I asked first."

Angel continued to grin, rubbing his hands gingerly back and forth. "We're just friends," he said slowly.

"Ahh," Buffy nodded. "Yes, I remember our totally platonic-slash-illicit-just-friends-kisses. You seem to be doing repeats with Cordelia."

Angel shook his head amused. "We're just friends, Buffy." Buffy shot him a pointed glare. "Okay, maybe not," he agreed. "But the thing is . . . she is. She's my best friend. Maybe that's why it feels so right." He gazed back at Buffy, who cocked her head. She couldn't deny the prick of hurt that his words invoked in her, but she knew them to be true. She had never been friends with Angel. They were lovers, awkward partners, later, mortal enemies, but never friends. Cordelia was, and hence, was good for him. Trying to break her intense glance, Angel nodded again towards her. 

"Your turn. You and Spike."

Buffy sighed, but retained her smile. "He makes me crazy . . .and he is officially the biggest pain in my ass _ever_ . . . but I need him, you know?"

Angel nodded as he contemplated this. "Yeah."

"What's going on out 'ere?" Spike swaggered through the back door and cocked his head at the two.

Buffy stood up and wrapped her arms around Spike's waist before placing a small kiss on his cheek. "We're not digging up the past, if that's what you're worried about." Spike relaxed a little in her arms. Angel looked towards Spike. 

"I hope you take good care of her, man," Angel said, with a threatening gleam in his eyes. "If you don't I'll come down from L.A. and stake you myself."

Spike nodded seriously. "I will, Poof. You can be guaranteed that." Then, slightly distressed at this new-founded neutralism between himself and his grand-sire, he added, "Here now, just so we're straight----you and I? We still hate each other right?"

Angel nodded. " Ummm . . . hell yes." Buffy rolled her eyes. 

They all walked into the house and into the living room where the rest of the gang sat. Dawn, still possessively grasping Conner, rocked him back and forth in adoration. Xander nervously had his arm around Anya who was pointing out wedding dresses in a thick bridal magazine. Cordy was engaged in a conversation with Tara and Willow, both of who looked slightly uncomfortable with Cordy's efforts to understand their lifestyle.

"So ummm, gay . . . huh? It's so weird, because you both are so not butch girls. I mean, I don't really know many . . .alternatives . . . I myself have no problem with it at all . . . well . . . I kind of always figured about you Willow . . . I mean you were in love with Xander, and well, Xander's nearly female anyway."

"HEY!" Willow, Xander and Anya all yelled simultaneously.

"Are you _forgetting_ that you, yourself with _Miss_ Harris at one point, Cordy? Cause from what I remember, I was man enough for _you_," Xander pointed out, but stopped abruptly when Anya elbowed him in the ribs. 

Cordy shrugged. "Call it temporary insanity. No offence Anya."

"None taken. I'm not the one in love with a bloodsucking vampire."

"Hey!" Buffy glared at Anya as she entered the room, grasping onto Spike's hand. Eyebrows around the room flared up hastily. Angel stood beside them and had heard the last snippet of conversation, causing Cordy to just as soon burn a crimson shade. He tried to reassure her by giving her a blank, crooked smile as he shrugged his shoulders.

"Well are you ready to go Cordy?" he asked, reaching for the multitude of bags at her feet.

"Yeah, just about." She turned to Xander and Anya. "Well see you guys. Don't forget to mail me that invitation, I can't wait for the wedding." She smirked at Xander's pained look. 

"Great!" Anya piped up cheerily. "But since you and Angel are obviously going to come together, can I just put Angel and guest? Would save a little bit of money the invitations." Cordy glared at her. Angel cleared his throat. 

"Yeah, it's definitely time to go," he said. While Cordy turned to give Dawn, Tara and Willow hugs, Angel looked nervously to Buffy and Spike. 

"Goodbye Buffy," he said, looking pensive, yet accepting.

Buffy smiled slightly. "Goodbye Angel." She knew what they were both doing. They were saying goodbye. For good. Something they had tried to do for so long but something they secretly never could bring themselves to do. Spike squeezed her hand reassuringly. 

"Come on, it's time to let go of Conner," Willow was saying to a tearful Dawn, who still clung to his soft body. 

"N-No!" she whimpered. She glanced hopefully at Buffy and Angel. "I was k-kind of h-hoping that we could keep him. C-can we?"

Angel shook his head amusedly at her as he gently took Conner from her arms. He handed him to Cordy who in turn fitted him into a pouch that rested on her chest. Smiling broadly at the scene, he offered one of his free arms to Cordy, who beamed at the offer. As they made their way out to the car in the hours of early evening, Buffy stood with Spike in the doorway, wistfully reflecting on how family-like the scene looked. "He looks happy, doesn't he, Spike?"

Spike cocked his head. "Yeah, Peaches looks un-broody enough. Suits him nicely." He turned from the departing car to Buffy as he nuzzled her neck tenderly. "But not even the happiest fool alive can even touch what I'm feelin' right now." Buffy giggled. 

"Maybe this happy fool needs some rest? Or . . . non-rest, whatever, I'm just trying to be all smooth and get you to go upstairs with me."

Spike grinned, still letting his arms twine around Buffy's waist. "Smooth enough baby. Let's go."

Squealing, Buffy grabbed his wrist as he chased her through the foyer and nearly up the stairs. Stopping abruptly when they encountered the Scoobs quizzical faces, Buffy and Spike motioned uncomfortably upstairs.

"Fight demons . . ." Buffy sputtered, "Under-the-bed-type demons."

"Yeah, um . . . tough buggers they are," Spike said, trying to help her with an excuse. "Looks like the Slayer will need help, y'know? Those bed beasties are fatal." Everyone else remained relatively unconvinced, but by this time, the couple had forgone explanations and stormed up the stairs, yelping and giggling the whole time. 

"Hmmm," Willow furrowed her brow as the Scoobs turned back to the Monopoly game they started. "I wonder what that was about?"

Anya, the obvious designated banker handed out the colored money in a business-like fashion. "You heard them. Bed beasties and the sort. I have some experience with them myself. I conjured up one on Attila the Hun when he was in bed, cheating on his girlfriend. Really terrible mess, lots of blood and so forth. Of course they do leave that out of the history books . . ." she said in response to the stares she was rewarded with by the rest of the group.

Xander visibly winced as images of pale legs intertwined with golden ones flashed across his mind. He nervously turned his attention back to the stairs. "M-Maybe they need some help? You know? If those bed monsters are so dangerous? I vote we go up and help them." He threw down his money and cards and headed for the stairs. 

"Pssh," Dawn scoffed. "Don't bother them." She broke into a knowing smile. "That's just their lame excuse for boinking."

"Dawn!" Willow broke into a chastising glare, trying to hide a small smile. Xander stifled a sob. 

"What? It's true!" Dawn stubbornly continued. "Everyone knows except you and Anya. I don't see how you can't tell, it's so obvious."

"Maybe because something so perverse is chosen to blocked from people's minds!" Xander exploded, his face turning into a mask of disgust. 

Willow turned to her girlfriend curiously. "Spike and Buffy? W-with the d-doing? A-and the _it_?" She made obscure, Anya-like motions with her hands to convey what she failed to voice. Tara nodded her head solemnly.

"Yeah. I kind of knew, but Buffy made me promise not to tell." Willow sat back and processed the information. She shrugged acceptingly.

"Hmmm."

"That's all you have to say??!!!" Xander gaped at the group with melodramatic alarm. "Evil, soulless killer has shacked up with our dear, beloved Buffy and you guys have nothing to say about it?!!!"

"Well it makes sense," Anya replied, unfazed. "All that vampiric stamina and stuff. And Buffy with that super-Slayer strength. I'm not surprised that him and her would eventually became orgasm friends." Xander's face contorted further.

"Good god woman! Close your mouth before any more evil cantations come out of it!"

"I think it's nice," Willow said with a shy smile. "I always kind of hoped it would happen. He's good now. And good for her. You should have seen how they were after Rack died, he was so strong for her." Willow smiled dreamily at the memory. The rest, excluding Xander nodded in agreement. Xander to continued to stare at the girls in angry shock. 

"Has the world gone mad????" He screamed. "Spike??? Evil vampire??? Murderous fiend???? Annoyingly perverted demon with an irritating accent???" Everyone ignored him, prompting Xander to collapse on the couch in despair. "Whatever," he whispered in defeat.

Spike broke into a grin as he reclined on Buffy's bed, listening to noise downstairs. "Sounds like the whelp's finally coming to terms with us." His voice dropped slightly when he said the last little word with caution, but Buffy seemed unfazed. She moved over to the bed and slowly draped one leg over his body so that she straddled him. 

"Forget him," she whispered huskily dragging Spike up to meet her soft lips, and soon enough he did. 

As dusk permeated the sky, they made love like they always did, tenderly, gently, but with unequivocal passion. Buffy leaned back, her long, graceful neck bared, shining in the twilight with beads of sweat, glittering like gems. Spike leaned in to kiss away the drops and whispered almost unintelligible words of love and beauty as he rocked inside her. In response, she whispered his name. Legs intertwined, arms clasping to sweat-slicked skin, lips gently brushing in soft caress. As her blistering, intensely pleasurable release began to overtake her, Buffy opened her heavily-lidded eyes and gazed directly into Spike's eyes, blue, clear as the sun's rays itself. She marveled how, for such a dark creature, he could carry the elusive light of the day in his eyes, light that shone so brightly whenever he was in her or near her. And suddenly, as if the striking clarity of those orbs had incensed new thought in her, she opened her eyes wide, brushing one hand against his cheek tenderly.

"I love you," she gasped as she came.

Spike propped his head back up, shocked and suddenly very still. As she relaxed in his arms, he continued to stare at her, as if he was trying to discern if she was really there. "Pet . . ." he said cautiously. "Don't . . . say things you don't mean."

"I don't." She smiled and brought his head back down to kiss him tenderly. She kissed him, eyes open, staring wide at the sudden tears that had sprung into his. Releasing him, she smiled again. "I love you Spike." 

Spike just shook his head and kissed her again, his lips carrying equal parts devotion, passion, lust and love. "God, Buffy I love you too," he whispered. "I love you so much." Dragging him down next her, Buffy collapsed into his arms, knowing full well he was smiling in the darkness.

"Spike?" she whispered, reclining with her head against his bare chest.

"Hmmm?"

"Stay?"

"A' course I'll stay tonight Buffy."

"No. I mean stay . . . forever."

Spike gazed down at Buffy, framed in a halo of golden curls, spilling onto her full, bare breasts. How could he ever leave something so angelic? Goddamn poetry it was that the angelic slayer and the dead vampire should love each other forever. 

"Forever," he agreed, and soon they both smiled, drifting off to sleep in each other's arms. 

And the last sounds Buffy heard before she drifted into dreamy unconsciousness were the ones she loved the most. The sounds of Xander and Willow's laughter intermixed with Dawn's complaining and Tara's soft lyrical voice. And the sound of her lover's unnecessary breathing lying next to her. Tears lightly streaking her face, she closed her eyes and agreed that this where she wanted to make her home for the rest of her life.


End file.
